


The House Angel

by lysanatt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-31 19:34:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 92,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lysanatt/pseuds/lysanatt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel likes his new job as a designer on the famous TV show, <i>The House Angel</i>. Not only does it gives him a chance of working closely with his big brother Gabriel, but the work is charitable and interesting as well. Rebuilding the houses and fates of the deserving, content with what they do, neither Gabriel, nor Castiel want to change their own lives, thank you very much!</p><p>But that is only until The House Angel's design team receives a video, containing a plea of help from two brothers in Lawrence, Kansas. Then <i>everything</i> changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A New Man on the Job

"Whoa!" Gabriel's head whipped up, his attention fully on the screen. "Fuck, he's gorgeous!" Without looking away from the TV, Gabriel fumbled for a file on his messy desk, tipping over a pencil holder in the attempt. 

"He does have a certain charm," Castiel agreed, ignoring the pencils spreading over the floor. "I've never seen that many freckles and the eye-"

"Not _that_ one!" Gabriel laughed. "The tall guy. Damn." Gabriel paused the video. The picture froze at the exact moment when the guy Cas had spoken of slung his arm around what appeared to be his younger brother. "I don't care what the rest of you think," Gabriel declared, "those two are so going on the show, because the tall kid?" Gabriel pointed at the screen and the tallest of the two men. "That one's mine."

Kali pushed off from the wall she had been leaning against. The glare she sent Gabriel could have frozen burning lava. "Strangely enough, Gabriel, dear, _The House Angel_ was not created as your personal dating service. And we're not selecting our participants from the way they look, but from what they need. Do I make myself clear?" She put her hand on a stack of application videos their assistants had chosen for them to look through. "We still have a few more to watch. You know, with people who don't necessarily look like your gay wet dream." 

Castiel didn't say anything. Kali had a point. Besides, he was a new to _The House Angel_ , if not to Gabriel's excesses, so staying out of the argument seemed sensible.

Gabriel, on the other hand, didn't feel the need to shut up and stop embarrassing himself. "When did I ever hit on anyone on the show?" He managed to look very much like the Jack Russell he usually dragged around with him, all pathetically-begging brown eyes and absolutely no shame.

"There was that g-" Castiel began, when Meg put her hand on his shoulder. 

"Don't remind him, he's just gonna be cranky all day, poor puppy. And you are a bit unfair, Castiel; Gabe really doesn't make a habit of hitting on the participants — he knows it could get nasty."

It had gotten nasty, that one time when Gabriel actually did. Castiel knew. He'd been there to pick up the pieces. And to be fair, as Meg pointed out, it had happened once, and never again. Once bitten... It hadn't been pretty, and their bosses hadn't exactly been enthused about the attention. Good to know that Gabriel had learned from it. Something. Hopefully. If nothing else, then at least he'd learned to tread very, very carefully. Alastair hadn't been gentle when Gabriel had decided to call it quits and if Gabriel had been less infatuated with the man, he might have seen that Alastair hadn't been entirely sane and backed off before it got too far, even before he'd asked the man out in the first place. 

"Luckily for you, Gabriel, your little... liaison happened before the show went national," Castiel said quietly. "If it had hit the news, you had been in trouble— just like everybody here." At the time The House Angel had been aired on a local network, well before it was picked up by a bigger player. Since the show was now big ratings and big money, they had to be more careful. The network was all right, though. The higher-ups weren't too uptight. They had no problems with the fact that Gabriel insisted that the families they helped weren't just a man, a woman and the average 1.8 kid. But airing their dirty laundry publicly... that was unacceptable, and Gabriel knew it. He'd made a fortune from the show, but he wasn't entirely irreplaceable.

Gabriel swirled the chair, once, twice, before he stopped it, feet on the desk. "Yeah, yeah. I'll play nicely. Promise. Scout's honor. So, let's consider. What was his name again?" Gabriel stretched to pull the file closer. "Sam. Sam Winchester. Neat. Okay, his house burned down in a fire that killed his fiancee Jessica — oh, there went my chances, guy's not gay — and now-"

"Does this require you to be so callous?" Castiel couldn't stop himself from asking. Sometimes Gabriel behaved highly inappropriate, and his comment rubbed Castiel the wrong way. He looked over Gabriel's shoulder into the folder. "And you were never a boy scout. Anyway, the other guy's name is Dean, and the two of them are living in a one-bedroom apartment across from the small factory that Dean Winchester owns. You'd have known if you had used time to actually read the file."

Gabriel pulled the folder out of Castiel's reach and Castiel made a discontent sound. 

"Oooh, _Dean_ , was it?" Gabriel teased. "I was talking about the actual deserving dude, so shut up, Cas, with your sudden infatuation," Gabriel ordered in a brotherly tone. "See, if _we_ lived together in an apartment-"

"We do," Castiel argued. "And I do not understand how our living conditions are a problem pertaining to the Winchester brothers." 

"Yeah, we do. A two-story, five thousand square feet penthouse. With a pool and a four car garage. What I am trying to say is that if we lived in a place the size of a large shoe box, we'd have killed each other by now. I know it." Gabriel pursed his mouth, thinking. "And you don't, because you're the epitome of clueless with forgiveness on top. Better write your will, just in case five thousand square feet aren't enough. I begin to doubt that."

"And why, again, doesn't the younger brother go get another place to live?" Meg wisely stepped in before yet another brotherly argument ruined the meeting. "We need something that justifies our choice, you know... choosing the Winchester dude before all the other deserving people. I mean, not that I doubt that he's deserving. What's the deal?" Meg asked. She reached for the remote. "We should finish the vid." She pointed at the screen, pressing a button, and the two brothers flicked back alive. 

"It's difficult for Sam," Dean Winchester explained, holding on to his brother who looked immensely tired. "Since he lost Jess, it's been hell for him. He lost his scholarship, his house is a pile of charcoal, and neither of us have the funds to buy something else. I've just started my own business, so it's basically the choice between what we have now, a studio and my shop, or a two-bedroom apartment. Without my business there's little income, so that's the reason that we live here — in _this._ " Dean on the screen showed with a hand what he was talking about, the panning camera following what he wanted to show the viewers: a dilapidated dump that someone had done a very good job making livable with colorful spreads and pristine white paint. It was still a dump, though, with cracked linoleum and moldy corners. It had barely room for one.

An older man with a beard came into the picture. 

"I've known my boys since they were kids. I'm like a father to them, and I'd like to help them. But last year somebody burned down my scrap yard, and although I'd give them my last dollar, I don't have the means to do anything but that. A dollar or ten, that is. They're good boys. They don't deserve to live like they do. Before their mother died and their father disappeared, they had a nice home. Please, Gabriel and the rest of you House Angels, help Sam get the life he was destined for." 

The older guy rubbed his forehead, pulled off his cap and put it back on. 

Dean Winchester spoke again.

"Our Uncle Bobby has been there for us, always. And it is as he says: Sam can't go back to the house. I mean, he'll never forget Jess, no wonder, she was absolutely perfect for him, but it has been three years, and being stuck with a lot that holds so many bad memories doesn't really help". Dean smiled, then looked at his little brother with something akin to worry. "Enough with the girl-talk, yeah?"

"Dean's right," Sam Winchester added. "I want to move on, but I don't have the funds. It's as if my life has been on hold for years, and if nothing happens, I'll be stuck, I suppose. I even tried to sell the lot, but no one wants a piece of land with a ruin on it." 

He smiled, not wide or brightly, but a small, terse smile that hinted at how handsome he'd be if he was smiling happily, if his expression wasn't held hostage by sadness and loss.

"God, he has dimples," Gabriel croaked. "I'm fucked." He paused the video again, maybe keeping the image on the screen for his own perusal later. "I'd give anything to see him smile... really smile. Fuck." Gabriel rubbed the bridge of his nose. "It's not fair."

Kali swatted him at the back of his head. "He's not gay, stupid. Could you please reach a level of professionalism that won't drag down the rest of us? Jeez." She crossed her arms as she glared down at him. "Okay, so I admit that they're deserving. Anything about what they do... other than being two nice-looking guys with a burned-down house and no money?"

"They volunteer. In the community," Meg chipped in. "They are in some kind of charity that helps people find disappearing relatives and runaway children though the Lawrence Children's Center. The Lawrence Hunters' Society, they're called. Or call themselves. The two of them, and their uncle Bob... Bobby and a few of their friends. They track them down."

"So they're actually good guys?" Kali sounded surprised. "My experience is that the nice-looking ones usually are douches." 

Castiel couldn't help see the cold look that she sent Gabriel. Working with one's ex-wife had its backside. 

"Thanks," Gabriel smirked, tilting the office chair back, looking up at Kali. "I love you too, darling."

"Mm-hm." Kali didn't budge. "I wouldn't be married to Baldur if you did."

Castiel groaned and hid his head in his hands. "Gabriel, please. Could you stop? We need to decide. We have an almost full schedule, and if we squeeze in the Winchesters, we can have the team start working on the important matters. You know... what we're actually trying to do here: help people getting better homes and lives."

"That and to make a great show." Gabriel nodded. "See? You're good at keeping us on track. I knew it was a good idea to ask you come do _House Angel_ with us this season, Cas. The voice of reason and all that. But you're right. We need to decide. So what do you say?"

"Yes, to the Winchesters." Meg nodded. "Damn, it's a tough one, losing everything like this Sam did. So promising... lovely girlfriend, just about to be married, looking forward to a successful career in law. And then nothing... sleeping on his brother's couch, working part time at a bar... It's just..." She put the hands in her pockets, as if she were cold. Her eyes were blank. "I'd like to help them." 

"Same," Kali said, not prone to thawing much. Her mouth, however, became a narrow, tense line, betraying that she wasn't as cold as she looked. "So it's a yes from me. And we should do something for the older brother too. He's clearly stretched thin by trying to provide for his kid brother."

"Yes. Obviously," Gabriel said and looked at Castiel with a far too knowing and calculating look in his eyes. Only because Castiel knew his brother so well he realized that Gabriel hadn't been deliberately insensitive. On the contrary. Sam Winchester's situation had kicked Gabriel hard in the feelings and he'd been hiding behind a facade of jokes and indifference. "You?" Gabriel asked, showing no feelings. "Yes or no, Cas?"

Castiel turned away, once more staring at the screen, ignoring Sam's sad expression. Instead Castiel was studying the handsome face of Dean Winchester, reluctantly tearing himself away from the TV. 

"Yes," Castiel finally said. "I'd like very much to do something for Dean. And for Sam."

Gabriel smirked. Clearly Castiel's way of prioritizing hadn't eluded his older brother.


	2. Phone Calls and Deceit

Gabriel shut the door to his small trailer bedroom firmly. The others were gone, finally, taking a well-deserved break from the house they were currently doing. Meg and Cas had taken the entire crew with them to some fancy restaurant. It had been only too easy to fake the headache since nobody cared for anything but food. It wasn't as if Gabriel deliberately tried to hide what he was doing; he just wanted to be sure that nobody disturbed him because he was perhaps, maybe, theoretically going to be a tiny bit unprofessional.

Scratch that. He was going to be _damned_ unprofessional.

Gabriel pulled out his phone and scrolled through the numbers until he found the one he was looking for.

 _My future husband_. 

The number to Sam Winchester's cell. 

Strange how Gabriel's life had changed the moment he'd laid eyes on the kid. Staring at the phone, Gabriel wondered what it was about Sam Winchester that got to him. Gabriel sure had a protective streak; that was why he was so damned good at what he did. He loved humans, just in general, and he loved doing good to those who deserved it. He loved dealing with assholes too; Gabriel served a just desert better than most when he had to, and without remorse. But he'd never let anyone affect him the way Sam Winchester affected him. 

Gabriel had been in love with Kali, and he'd been an ass to her. He'd been in lust with that psycho of a half-Norwegian giant he'd picked up during one of the first shows in their second season. Both had been mistakes. He still loved Kali, though. His ex-wife was strong, bright and competent and he loved her. He merely hadn't loved her enough to fight for their relationship. It had never been enough. It was as if neither Kali, nor Alistair had managed what a badly shot video of a messed-up guy with the universe's most adorable dimples had managed in less than five minutes. 

Gabriel was done for, and he knew it. 

He was fascinated, enchanted, charmed. A pair of slanted, kaleidoscope-colored puppy-eyes and a smile that lit up the entire planet had him falling even before the video was over. 

Castiel suspected that something was amiss. Castiel always _knew_. But the others... Not even Kali had realized how utterly fucked Gabriel was, how lost in his infatuation with Sam Winchester he was. Never one backing away from a challenge, Gabriel had decided already that he needed to do something about it. It couldn't wait. All he needed was a chance. 

Getting to know Sam before the House Angel team arrived in Lawrence was the obvious solution. Maybe Sam was a total asshole. Maybe they didn't click. Maybe Gabriel was just gone for a lovely smile. He wasn't an idiot. He couldn't truly fall in love with a man he didn't know.

To remedy that little snag, Gabriel had simply told his crew that he would be the one who did the planning with Sam, and that the on-location crew had to back off until further notice. It provided Gabriel with the perfect basis from which he could effectuate the personal three-stages plan he'd lined up next to the show's plans for the Winchester brothers.

_1\. Get to know Sam Winchester._  
 _2\. Make Sam Winchester fall in love._  
 _3\. In case stages one and two are accomplished successfully: move in with the boy._

Additionally Gabriel needed to fall in love (more in love) with Sam. He could do that. Easily.

Gabriel liked the plan. What he didn't like was that he had to begin it with a lie.

Usually Gabriel didn't care that he deceived people for a living, hiding that he and his crew were plotting behind people's backs. But this one was different. In a few moments Gabriel was going to lie through his teeth and shoot down all Sam's hopes and wishes for a better future. He just hoped that Sam would forgive him when they later revealed the full extent of the House Angels' rescue plan. 

Gabriel sighed. He didn't want to add to the disappointment that was Sam Winchester's life. The phone lay heavy in his hand, and he took yet another deep breath as he waited for the call to go through. Gabriel's stomach fluttered. He ignored it. Sam Winchester was a pretty face, a lovely smile, no more. Not yet. But damn, if Sam turned out to be just as gorgeous and hot and bright as he'd been on that short video...

He was pulled out of his musings by a sleepy voice. 

"Sam. Who's this?" The reply was taken over by a yawn that sounded far too much like a cat, robbed of its well-deserved nap. 

"Sorry to disturb." Of course Gabriel wasn't, because then he wouldn't have heard that adorable yawn. "I'm Gabriel. Calling from the—"

"The House Angels?" The voice sounded surprised and awake now. "You're Gabriel Alighieri?"

"Last I checked, yeah. You want me to tell you who you are, or do you have that covered?"

Winchester had an adorable laughter, too. 

"So, what can I do for you, Gabriel Alighieri?"

 _Marry me_. "Good news or bad news?" Oh, Gabriel hated himself for this. 

"Bad, I think. Any advice?"

"I'd say bad, too. The good might help a little. Although, seen from your point of view, most of it is gonna suck."

"Donkey balls or just ordinary ones?"

"I prefer ordinary balls. Do you have any preferences?" Gabriel held his breath. A bit more innuendo there than strictly necessary. 

There was a pause. Then Sam laughed again, full-throated and relaxed. "Yeah, me too. Ordinary ones. So, bad news?"

 _Sam preferred ordinary balls?_ Gabriel didn't dare hope that Sam meant... "Okay. We've reached a point in the season where our funds are... low. You know, with only a few episodes left and all. We'd love to help you, but we can't. Which you probably have figured out by now, since I'm talking to you?"

"Yeah, wouldn't be much of a surprise if I knew beforehand that you were going to Lawrence." Sam sighed and broke Gabriel's heart. 

Gabriel rubbed his forehead, distressed. "But the good news are that we have enough, though, so that we can do a smaller project, and I wondered if you'd help us help your brother. It's not that much of a help to you, but at least we can get you a room of your own." _And a house and perhaps a decent education and, well, a date and another date and a third, and an engagement ring and then..._ Gabriel pressed his eyes shut. He had to get a grip. He'd seen a five minutes long vid of the Winchester guy and spoken to him in two, and he was so fucking _screwed_.

"Oh, that would be great!" If sunbeams had a voice they'd sound like Sam Winchester. Sam was so honestly happy for his brother. "Tell me what to do!" Sam urged enthusiastically.

Gabriel had to direct his mind to the task at hand. He could _not_ think of Sam, naked, and on the luxurious bed that Gabriel had already purchased for him, begging Gabriel to tell him what to do. He managed to steer his thoughts towards a more appropriate route. "We'd like to make an extension, use the loft over Dean's apartment. And we have plans, too, to help with his business, you know, get him some of the essentials. Kali talked to Bobby Singer. If the two of you could dig a little, find out what Dean needs for the factory to become profitable? Mr Singer mentioned that the shop is on a rental lot?"

"Yeah, it is. Not a problem, though. One of our friends owns it. Ellen Harvelle."

"Sounds good." Gabriel slipped into work-mode with a relieved sigh. He needed to do this properly, or he'd lose the chance with Sam. If there was one. Chances were that Sam wasn't into men at all, although the little intermezzo with balls might suggest otherwise. Gabriel hoped so. "If you do some research, I'll see what we can do about the lot. If we talk again, let's say—" Gabriel considered quickly how soon he could talk to Sam again without being totally conspicuous. "In two weeks?"

"Great! Looking forward to it," Sam said. "And when do we need to have things ready?"

"Three months. I don't know how much you know about production?"

"Watched all the episodes, I really love your show," Sam admitted, making Gabriel's stomach do flip-flops again. "A bit, I guess. So are you going to call me, or do I call you."

"I am calling you, kiddo. I'm calling you."

Gabriel put down the phone, regretting immediately that he hadn't told Sam that he'd call in a week instead of two.

\- 0 -

It took exactly five days before Gabriel couldn't stand it any longer.

"Do you have Skype?" he asked, no preamble, as Sam answered the phone. 

"Hello there, Gabriel Alighieri. And why?" Sam sounded so positive that Gabriel couldn't stop himself from smiling. At least the boy liked him. "Let me guess! You want to set up a meeting with Schrödinger and Heisenberg? I mean, they're both dead, but the House Angels work miracles, so that shouldn't be a problem, right?"

"I'm sure quantum mechanics and Skype meet somewhere. Although right now it eludes me how."

"You said you'd call in two weeks. Something universally important must have happened, because time is clearly going much slower here in Lawrence than it does where you are. So I think we need Schrödinger and Heisenberg to do something about it. If two weeks equal five days—"

"In Sacramento." Gabriel headdesked. He could do better than that. 

"—in Sacramento, then we're talking state vectors, and—"

"Stop! Mercy!" Gabriel chuckled. "Beauty _and_ brains. How lucky can I get?"

"Depends," Sam said, cheeky as hell. "How lucky do you wanna get?"

Gabriel choked on a gasp that Sam definitely shouldn't be allowed to hear. Either Sam had no idea what he was saying, or Winchester most certainly didn't suffer from homophobia. The rather blatant comment made Gabriel's confidence waver. Gabriel might be prime time television's darling, but his self-esteem shrank in the presence of the divine perfection that was Sam Winchester. Hell, he was falling in love faster than the speed of light. And it was time to change the subject unless Gabriel wanted Sam clued in on his crush weeks too early. "I have a few questions. So, Skype?"

"Can do. It's not as if I have work until later." Sam gave Gabriel his info and went to turn on his laptop, still chatting away merrily. 

Gabriel had his Mac ready. With the phone squeezed between his ear and shoulder, he managed to finish the required steps, adding Sam to his contacts, still listening to Sam talk. Sam's face showed up on the screen and Gabriel had to dive for the phone as it slipped. Good thing, that, because Gabriel managed to get his dazed expression under control while he was under the desk for his damned iPhone. 

"Sorry about that. Slippery bastards, phones."

Sam raised an eyebrow and smiled that adorable smile that hit Gabriel square between the eyes, making it impossible to stay neutral. He tried. He really tried. 

"Anyway, I have a list ready. Dean is strangely communicative these days," Sam said, waving his phone. "I can send it to you, if you want? I got the measurements from the factory too if you need them."

Gabriel nodded. Yeah, Dean was communicative, all right, because Meg and Kali had given Dean homework as well. "That'd be great."

They talked for a while about the plans for Dean's apartment, and about what needed to be done before The House Angel's team arrived. Sam was easy to talk to, definitely smart. He was a little sarcastic, too, and Gabriel liked that as well. Sam laughed frequently and managed to kill Gabriel at least a dozen times just by smiling at him. Slowly Gabriel pulled their conversation in the direction of Sam's life. He needed to know for the sake of the program, but Gabriel also wanted to know more because he found even the slightest detail about Sam Winchester so very fascinating. Gabriel loved people, loved getting to know them, but with Sam, Gabriel's love definitely had reached an interest level entirely of its own. 

"You mentioned in the video that you'd been to law school," Gabriel said. "What happened?"

A shadow of sadness shut down the bright smile, and the tone of their conversation changed as fast as the blue sky changed during a sudden thunderstorm. "Jess happened. The house caught fire one night and... " Sam bit his lip, his eyes dead. "I'm sorry, I—"

"No. I... I shouldn't have asked. I'm sorry, Sam." Gabriel wished he could have reached out, hugged Sam and comforted him. Without thinking Gabriel touched the screen, pulling back when he realized what he'd been doing. 

"I should talk about it, I know. Even Dean says so. And usually he tells me to shut up and stop being a girl, so I know I'm fucked." Sam made a strained little smile. "I couldn't handle it. I watched her burn alive, Gabriel, and I couldn't do anything to help her." A tear slid down Sam's cheek. "I... I don't know why I'm telling you. I mean, you're—"

"No, it's fine! Please, Sam." Gabriel felt a little desperate. "Damn, if I wasn't tied up by work, I'd be on the next plane, kiddo. To take care of you." Jesus, those tears. Gabriel's last defenses crumbled entirely.

"Really?" Sam asked so hopeful, longing so much for comfort that it almost made Gabriel cry too.

"Yeah, really." Gabriel hadn't felt like this for ages, busy and slightly jaded as he was. "I know you don't know me, Sam. But let me tell you this: I wouldn't have been able to run this show if I couldn't keep a secret. Anything, Sammy, just... I'm here. Trust me, if you can. Some say it's easier to talk to a stranger, and... I'm here. I'll listen."

Sam looked so relieved that Gabriel played with the thought of actually catching that plane. 

"Thank you. I don't know why, but I think I do. Trust you." Sam wiped away a remaining tear. "I fell apart. I drank too much, I didn't hand in assignments. And Stanford... They told me to go on leave. What they meant was 'don't come back, loser.'"

"Not big on mercy?"

"Nope." Sam took a deep, shaky breath. "I was so far down that pit that I had no idea how to get up again, and Dean... He saved me. Pulled me up, got me a job at Ellen's and a couch to sleep on. I love Dean... He's always been there. When our dad went off... Dean, he managed that too. He cared for me since I was twelve. But he can't do magic, and I'm stuck with the life I have now; I don't want to ruin Dean's life again." 

It was as if the gates to Sam's contained sadness suddenly sprang open. Gabriel did nothing but to listen when Sam cried and sniffled and dried his eyes and, finally—after tears and pain and all the cruelty of his miserable life poured out—a smile. It was the sudden clear light of sun on a rain-gray sky, and Gabriel couldn't stop himself from smiling too. 

Sam looked at Gabriel for a long time, as if he was seeing something he hadn't seen before. "I'm sor—" he began.

Gabriel cut him off immediately. "Don't _ever_ apologize for what happened to you, Sammy. Or for trusting me enough to let me in. Ever." He wished that he could tell Sam that he had his back, that they had plans in motion to improve his life. He wished he could tell Sam how wonderful and kind and absolutely perfect he was. "I'm here," he said instead, offering what he could offer right there and then; the only offer that didn't intrude on Sam's way to healing. "I'm here tonight, and any time you need someone to talk to. I mean it, Sam."

God, the kid was going to break Gabriel's heart.

\- 0 -

After that particular night it became a recurring and much appreciated habit for Gabriel to speak to Sam. Chatting about everything from work and life to the future of the Detroit Lions or the recipe for a decent _Coq au Vin_ , Gabriel soon understood that his infatuation with Sam Winchester was no longer an infatuation. He was truly falling in love with a man he'd never met, and Gabriel had a slight suspicion that Sam wasn't entirely insusceptible to his... lack of advances. Hitting on Sam would be like taking advantage of a young man in a fragile emotional state, Gabriel decided. He was an ass, and he'd taken advantage of enough men in his life, but there was no way he'd even think of it when it came to Sam.

He was going to do this _right_ , and the right way to do it was to offer his support and to be there when Sam needed him. Okay, so Gabriel did flirt a little when they weren't delving into the tar-pit that was Sam Winchester's life. Still Gabriel's light teasing usually made Sam smile and laugh, which was promising. Definitely promising.

Gabriel's heart was in a constant fugue of being shattered and repaired, perfectly in sync with the conversations he had with Sam.

\- 0 -

Of course Castiel was the one to discover exactly how badly Gabriel had it for the youngest Winchester.

Gabriel had barely arrived home from a day with a real estate agent in Richmond, carrying out one of the many plans he'd come up with while he nurtured his lethal crush. He sank down on a kitchen chair at the breakfast bar, cold beer in hand, extremely satisfied with the outcome. Gabriel put Sam's heavy file on the table, opening it so that he could peruse the nice prints he'd made from screenshots during his many nightly conversations with Sam. Okay, so it was a bit stalkerish, but Gabriel didn't care. He hoped that in a month he'd have the real thing all to himself. 

Or at least a date. Sam wasn't a thing, and Gabriel had a great relationship with reality. But a guy was allowed to dream a little.

He was so caught up in the appreciation of Sam's smile that he didn't hear Castiel come in. As usual, Castiel was a bit somewhere else, absent-minded. Cas put down his shopping bags on the kitchen island. He pulled up a can of beans but froze in mid-motion. He stared at the folder that Gabriel had in front of him.

"I don't recall those pictures," he said, reaching across the island to grab a particularly great picture of Sam, all dimples and laughter. "Where did you get them? Gabriel? You didn't ask the location crew to—"

"Gimme!" Gabriel yanked the piece out of Cas's hand. "Do not touch my boy without my permission!" By accident he shoved the folder across the table and a few more pictures spilled out. "Shit!" 

"What's going on?" Castiel looked at Gabriel, eyes slightly narrow. "Gabriel?"

"None of your business." What he had with Sam was _private_ , personal. Too precious and fragile yet to share with anyone. "I just..." He looked up at Cas, for once the one begging for mercy. "Please, Cas. Stay out of it."

Solemnly Castiel nodded. "If you are sure you know what you are doing. You're not... You're not doing anything to jeopardize the episode, are you? Or something worse."

"Worse?" Gabriel couldn't think of anything worse than ruining or spoiling a surprise. Except for anything that harmed Sam.

Castiel put the can down and leaned across the table. "You are serious?" He tapped with a finger on one of the pictures. "Because if you're not, that definitely exceeds jeopardizing."

"Oh, yeah, I'm serious." Gabriel shut his mouth. He wasn't going to say more. He couldn't let himself be so vulnerable as to admit his stupid, foolish, gigantic crush on Sam. Not yet. God, not yet.

Castiel scrutinized him for a while, in that slightly disconcerting way he always looked at people, as if he was trying to determine the purity of their thoughts. "All right." Castiel nodded. "I'll put these away, then," he said, grabbing a handful of carrots from one of the bags.

Gabriel couldn't help smiling. That was why he loved his little brother. Cas was the lovechild between no nonsense and high tolerance. A bit like Sam, just with less tears. 

Somehow it felt good that somebody else knew about Gabriel's utter defeat to love. And it was good that it was Cas.


	3. Nothing Special about Dean Winchester

Castiel hadn't forgotten about the Winchester brothers, not really. He had used considerable time on Dean's apartment, or rather on the part of it that didn't yet exist. Blueprints, plans, outline of the style he wanted, calls to Dean's friends, more calls to buy or ask stores and workers to donate their time and their goods to the cause. Sure, Castiel remembered. And it wasn't easy to forget about the likes of Dean Winchester and his brother, especially not when Gabriel seemed to be head over heels for the youngest of the two. And Dean looked like a runway model; men hardly came much more beautiful than Dean Winchester, in Castiel's opinion. But Castiel had had a few busy months, getting into his new job, working through the long line of families and homes that needed a make-over. He needed to compartmentalize, and Dean went into the slot marked _save for later_. The job in itself was easy enough; it was challenging and fun as well. Castiel had always been dutiful and meticulous but being the newest addition to _The House Angel_ was not just interesting — it was damned hard work. However, Castiel liked helping people. He liked planning and designing a new home, an apartment, a house, or what they had done once: an entire street — albeit short. He liked working with architects and engineers and even with Gabriel. His older brother was a gigantic dick, but his heart was in the right place. He was on the side of people, and it showed.

All those aspects Castiel was fine with. It was a challenge, though, being featured weekly on one of the most popular shows on prime-time national TV. Perhaps the only thing that Castiel might not have thought through when he'd said yes to Gabriel's offer. As much as Castiel loved the fans, simple daily tasks had turned into chores. A trip to the supermarket was now little but a dress-up-as-spy tour. He was recognized _everywhere_. Contrary to Gabriel, Castiel didn't like the attention outside work. Once he'd had two women following him to the men's room, and since then, Castiel had taken to wearing sunglasses in public, not that it helped much. Besides, it made him look like an idiot when the weather was cloudy. 

But it wasn't all bad, otherwise he'd have quit. He loved that he made people happy. It wasn't just the people whose homes Castiel and the other designers improved: the happiness spread to the viewers as well. It made it worth it, every hour of work, every seven-o-clock-in-the-morning-sleepy encounter with fans at the bakery or, well, anywhere else awkward and inappropriate, like in bars, even once at a relatively infamous gay bar that Gabriel had dragged him into. 

Gabriel's reaction had been to laugh at him. "Relax. Everybody thinks we're gay anyway, he'd joked. "We're designers, dude. We're supposed to love pink, we are girly despite all our muscular manliness, and we're as gay as the next picnic basket. _Live_ the preconceptions, Cassie! And cheer up; the camera loves you, bro, so of course the viewers do too."

True, that, not that Castiel could see the allure when he looked at himself in the mirror. He was an ordinary guy with a talent for grand design. Nothing special about that. He just did what needed to be done, helping people to better lives. And he disliked pink as much as Gabriel and he most certainly wasn't girly — unless if one by 'girly' meant that Castiel was as tough as Meg when she went at it with a chainsaw. The woman could hold her own — and some heavyweight power tools, too.

And Castiel didn't feel particularly special when he managed to steer his old, trusty (and rusty) Challenger into the parking lot behind the office. He felt tired and worn, and he was incredibly happy that the season was just about done. Two more shows to produce, a few exhausting weeks, and they'd be done for the summer. The team bus was waiting in the parking lot, ready for them to take off. 

The drive east to Kansas would take the crew two days, and Castiel looked forward to it. They had last-minute preparations to make, sure, but usually the design team had time to sleep and relax before a taxing seven days' work, more or less 24/7, began. Castiel patted his car lovingly on the roof, locked it and grabbed his suitcase from the trunk.

"Come on, Cassie, we're late!" Gabriel stuck his head out the team bus's door, his beloved Jack Russell wriggling happily in his arms. "I thought you'd be eager to get to Lawrence, bro, what with the reward that awaits us there."

"Reward?" Castiel dragged his suitcase into the bus, sliding it under one of the seats closest to his cot. "I don't understand."

"The Winchester brothers," Gabriel smirked. "One for each of us."

Yes, Castiel remembered very well. Green eyes and freckles and a gorgeous smile. Castiel shook his head. Gabriel had always been like that — confident and charming and a hundred percent sure that everybody would fall for his charm sooner or later. He was usually right. True to his big love, the show, Gabriel had toned flirting down to a trickle since Alastair happened. Still, Castiel knew that the other brother, Sam, didn't stand a chance if Gabriel was as serious as he appeared. Still, Sam Winchester's fate hadn't yet been set in stone. The slight problem that Sam Winchester probably wasn't gay in the first place might clue Gabriel in. Not that it'd hold Gabriel back from trying. "You do not find it presumptuous to claim one before they have even met you?"

"Nah. Sam has been waiting for someone like me all his life, dude."

Castiel sighed when Gabriel's dog jumped onto his lap, shedding a mix of white and fawn hairs all over his pants. He patted the dog distractedly. "Gabriel, the guy's grieving his dead _female_ fiancée. Must you?"

"I'll cheer him up, won't I? You know, some might say that I'm good company."

"They probably don't know you as well as I do," Castiel mumbled, letting it go.

"What was that again?" Gabriel sent Castiel an evil smile. "You'd like me to set you up with Dean? I think that'd be so cool — double-dating two scorching hot dudes."

"Shut. Up." Castiel glared at his older brother, unable to whip up much malice to go with the words. The mention of the other Winchester brother had sent Castiel's brain on a detour. "I'm not dating anyone, Gabriel. And I'm not going to have an illicit connection with people who appear on our show. It is preceding any level of unprofessional-"

"And next episode Castiel will have a unicorn resting its weary head in his lap," Meg said, laughing. "Cas, really, stop being such a prude, you so need to get rid of that virginity, and who'd be better helping you with that other than someone as gorgeous as-"

" _Stop_ ," Castiel all but roared, making the Jack Russell terrier startle. The dog decided that a retreat to Gabriel's lap would be wise.

"You're scaring the hellhound," Gabriel pointed out, ignoring the outburst. He put a hand possessively on the dog's back.

Castiel hadn't meant to, the dog had no part in this, but he was too annoyed to stop. "What in the name of all that's holy is _wrong_ with you all? Have you no decency left? We are here to do our work, to make a great show and save people. None of you have ever as much as looked weird at any of the participants, except for Gabriel's one time with... that man. Stop immediately, or I'll quit!" Castiel shut his mouth audibly, looking almost scared at his colleagues who in turn all stared at him, open-mouthed and silent.

"Cas's right," Kali finally said. "We're professionals. Well, some of us." Gabriel got a pointed look.

"Whoa, that was _hot_ ," Meg whispered loudly into Gabriel's ear. "Damn. Didn't know he could be so bossy when he's riled up."

"Okay, I promise not to do anything that Sam wouldn't like." Gabriel looked almost sorry, and Castiel believed it as much as he'd believe a used car dealer. "Sorry, Cas." Gabriel backed off, sitting down at the table in the middle of the bus. 

"Let's go over the final plans for the Lawrence episode, guys." Gabriel handed out their schedule as the others sat down too, grabbing sodas and coffee. "Our location managers have everything ready; Bobby Singer, the boys' uncle, has helped us purchase another lot to build the new house on, and the foundation work's already done. The location crew has talked to both Winchesters. Sam thinks that we're doing Dean's place, and Dean thinks that we're doing Sam's, so neither is talking to the other about it. Sam is really very charming."

"I knew you wanted to handle Sam by yourself. How much, exactly, have you told him?" Meg asked, frowning. She leaned forward. "Wouldn't we usually let our people on location do most of the talking? Sam wasn't supposed to do anything at all, apart from giving us some tips about what Dean needed. Gabe, what are you up to?"

"A few times. Maybe a little more. That's what Skype's for," Gabriel cut her off, his tone making it clear that questioning his decision was a no-go. "To make sure everything goes as planned. And Sam still thinks we're doing it for Dean. As I said, we're-"

"So we'll have time left to do a few extras?" Kali interrupted, for once on Gabriel's side. "For the older brother? Because I have an idea or two."

"Mm." Gabriel nodded. "Let's go through our current plans first," he repeated. "We're building a really nice house for Sam. Nothing too fancy; a simple, open design, the best materials and high-quality furniture. I mean, I'm going to live there with my boy at some point, so I want it to be a classy crib," he declared shamelessly. Kali rolled her eyes. "For Dean..." Gabriel leaned back into the chair, stretching and folding his hands behind his head. He looked utterly satisfied with himself. Cat, cream. "Dean will be occupied at the new build site. I've made sure he'll stay there, so that we have free reins; he's not gonna know what's happening. We're renovating his apartment, converting the loft which will make it twice as big. And we'll thrown in some state-of-the-art shit for his business next door too." Gabriel grabbed a folder and handed out a summary of what had been done, and what needed to be done. It was suspiciously long. Castiel flipped through it, raising his eyebrows. _California, Richmond, condo, house_... Gabriel had been creative. 

"You've really been busy," Meg said, squinting at the long list. "Gabriel, are you sure you aren't too invested in-"

"No. My investment is not _too_ anything." It was clear that Gabriel did not want to be contradicted. "And I think," Gabriel said, his eyes shining with mirth, "that the one who should take care of Dean, making sure he's kept busy at all times while we do his apartment... that one is going to be... Cas!"

Castiel could feel his face heat up, and the others laughed. "Oh, thanks, Gabriel," Castiel said acerbically. He refused to comment further. Dean Winchester was like any other deserving person, appearing on the show. There was nothing special about Dean Winchester. Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

\- 0 -

Luckily Gabriel had got his missing professionalism back on, and the design team had everything ready when the bus approached Lawrence. Thankfully Gabriel seemed to have forgotten about Castiel's perceived crush on the oldest Winchester. Perhaps it had been enough for him to taunt Castiel, forcing him to spend all week with the guy. Castiel didn't look forward to it.

Kali was up early, kicking them all out of bed. Her turn to get things ready. "Breakfast in ten," she announced, placing a giant pile of re-heated pancakes on the table next to bowl of scrambled eggs. Castiel breathed in deeply, his stomach making growly noises. No bacon, it made the bus stink, Kali had forbidden it, to both Cas's and Gabriel's dismay. They all scuttled around like confused bugs, showering and dressing as fast as possible. "Hurry up!" Kali was running out of patience, not necessarily a good start. The crew knew better than to let her wait, and they were in their chairs in no time, ready for the substantial meal that she had provided. She still didn't look too pleased with them.

Castiel made an attempt to appease her. "We're in time, Kali. We need to pick up Ms Harvelle and her daughter at nine." He shoveled some scrambled eggs onto a piece of buttered toast. It smelled delicious and Castiel's stomach growled again as he poured coffee in his mug. The hellhound had forgiven him and was perching next to him in the wide chair, looking over his arm at the food.

Kali nodded. "At a place called The Roadhouse. Dean Winchester's place is around the corner, and we need to be there at nine thirty. We'll have twenty minutes to do a brief interview with Jo and Ellen Harvelle. Dean will meet us at the Harvelles' place, and then we're heading back to Dean's apartment to surprise Sam before he goes to work at the Roadhouse, or that's what he thinks he'll be doing, since we're sending him off to a five star Sacramento hotel. For starters." She sent a questioning look at Castiel. "You all read the memo on California?"

"Yes, I have studied the prospect for the California trip." Cas wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea. "I assume we have plans for the continued education of-"

"Don't we always have plans?" Kali sighed. Not bothered to lower her voice, she pointed over her shoulder in Gabriel's general direction. "I find it slightly disturbing how much work _he_ did to make sure Berkeley was in on the idea. It's a full ride. And yeah, Gabriel has secured a place for Winchester to stay in California as well."

Castiel couldn't decide whether to laugh or to cry. Gabriel was strangely persistent, going to such extremes, making Sam Winchester's home and life better. "So a condo in Richmond and a brand new house in most attractive neighborhood in Lawrence? Gabriel, are you certain you know what you're doing?" he asked his brother. Not that Gabriel would ever admit it if he didn't.

"I'm surprised the network let him," Kali said. "But then again, we've been modest lately, what with the recession and everything. When we air we could swap the last episode and this one, and air the Winchester episode last, going all out and spend every dime we have and then some. We can still pile it up; we could ask Lucifer to dedicate time to hunt down sponsors; I'm sure that'd get shit done. We should get him a car, at least. Sam Winchester. Not Lucifer. He's too fond of that piece of Detroit crap he's driving, anyway."

Putting down his fork, hurrying to swallow the mouthful he'd been chewing on, Gabriel held up a hand. "Just FYI, the network has nothing to do with the Richmond condo," Gabriel said in a tone that was meant to discourage any arguments. Castiel knew that tone far too well. "And stop talking about me as if I'm not here. I like Sam, so what? He needs to finish his education, and I happen to know a few people at Berkeley Law. It's not Stanford, but I'm sure it'll do."

Kali and Castiel exchanged a meaningful look. 

"You acquired the necessary means for the Richmond apartment by yourself?" Castiel was truly surprised now. It wasn't just that Gabriel had designed the house in Lawrence according to his own impeccable taste, but he'd also made sure that Sam Winchester would be easily available in California? Castiel began to wonder how much Skyping, exactly, his brother and Sam Winchester had been doing. It wasn't that Castiel disagreed with the attempt to get Winchester back on track, though. Sam Winchester was obviously a very intelligent young man, and he was about to go to the dogs if no one prevented it.

Gabriel shrugged. "It's an investment. Richmond is _the_ place to buy right now. Crime rates are falling at lightening speed, and the developments at the harbor? Oh, boy! It's worth it for the view alone. Anyway, the apartment will be at Sam's disposal until he's done studying. If he wants to, that is. That's what he says... that he'd like to go back to school. Not that he knows yet that it's an option. It was hard to keep it from him; he wants it so bad and I'd love to let him have everything he wants."

Kali's red lips formed a mute and perfect 'o'.

"Okay, so what? I'm interested."

"As in-"

"As in _the one_ -potential." Gabriel laughed nervously. "Sorry, babe. I wish we'd been better together, you and I."

"I'm good, thanks," Kali snubbed. "Seriously?"

Gabriel's eyes lit up as if he was thinking of Sam. "Seriously."

"I assume the target of your affections is not yet aware of the fact that you are interested in making yourself better acquainted with him?" Castiel said, stabbing a runaway lump of scrambled eggs with his fork. He studied it for a second before he ate it.

"Mmm. Maybe." Gabriel actually blushed. "It isn't as if I can tell him, okay? Not until we're done filming. I do remember Alastair, in case you're in doubt." He paused. "But I might have hinted that I'd like to take Sam out to dinner. In private. No cameras." 

Meg had joined them. "What? Dinner? Not fucking him in a stall at a gay bar like you usually do?"

"Meg! I'm not that type of man!" Gabriel hesitated. "Not anymore, at least!" he added.

Meg, Castiel and Kali looked at each other and burst out laughing. "Oh, hilarious," Meg grinned. "You've had a personality transplant overnight, I can tell. So, you're really falling in love with a man you've only talked to on the Internet? Amazing."

"Of course not." Gabriel's attempt at denial was contradicted by the way he hurried to put the dishes in the dishwasher. That Gabriel was found in the close proximity of said appliance was an event that only happened once in a blue moon, so Meg was surely right. Gabriel had fallen, and he'd fallen hard. How he'd managed to cover it up for so long was in itself a miracle: nobody encompassed by Gabriel's feelings, good or bad, were in doubt for long. Usually.

"You have not done something you should not?" Castiel asked, staring directly at his brother, willing him to tell the truth. "Like revealing to Sam that the episode isn't about Dean?"

"No. I haven't, Cas!" Gabriel actually had the audacity to look offended by the suggestion. "You know I wouldn't. If I couldn't keep a secret, what with us working in mysterious ways, I'd be out of a job."

"All right," Meg cheered, breaking up the fight before it started. "Okay! Let's do it, then! Let's go build them a house!"

\- 0 -

Ellen Harvelle was not to be trifled with. It was clear even before the woman in question sat down and took the cup of coffee she'd been offered. "If you hurt any of my boys by dragging them into your show, I'll make you regret it," she said in a friendly tone. She could have used the same tone asking someone to pass the sugar, but it worked remarkably well for threats too. She was backed up by a girl who looked twenty, but with a strong grip and fierce eyes, more mature than her age, Castiel was certain.

"What Mom said." Jo Harvelle sat down next to her mother. "So tell us what we need to do." The tour bus's motor came to life in a roar of diesel and oxygen, making it difficult for a few seconds to hear much.

Kali looked decidedly sour, and Meg had trouble hiding a smirk behind her hand when she looked at Cas. Kali wasn't exactly enamored with Ellen and Jo Harvelle. 

Gabriel stepped in. "Ladies, thank you so much for coming. We appreciate all the help you've already provided; we have volunteers enough, by far, and that's rare."

Castiel said nothing. He was convinced that the Harvelles probably had herded any able-bodied adult in Lawrence into the fold with a shotgun. Calling them volunteers worked for Castiel, though. As long as they were there and ready to get some construction work done in a hurry. 

"We would like you to explain briefly how you convinced the Winchesters that they should contact us. Meg will tape it. Just a few lines," Gabriel sat down at the couch on the other side of the bus. "I think it would interest the audience that it wasn't their own idea, make them sympathize more with Sam and Dean." He smiled. "Not that they aren't going to do that anyway."

"Ah, alright." Ellen Harvelle nodded and looked at Gabriel instead of at the camera. "It started with a bet," she explained. "Dean runs a microbrewery off the rental lot next to Harvelle's Roadhouse. Winchester Beer it's called. Artsy hipster stuff... Who knew it'd be such a success? Anyway, we'd been sampling Dean's latest creation — _Demon Blood_ — and Sam gets a bit maudlin when he's dr-" Ellen Harvelle coughed. "He gets a bit maudlin when he's tired. So there was some talk about the burned-down house and how Sam would like to get on with his life, but felt dragged down by the debris. Jo here suggested that the boys got a grip and called in decent help — we'd all love to help, but we don't have the means to put Sam through law school and on top of that manage to bulldoze what's left of his house. We can't. We just..." Her lips tensed and her eyes glittered with moisture. "We took care of them, Bobby and me, like they were our own." Ellen Harvelle's mouth tensed and her eyes softened. 

That was the first time Mrs Harvelle let any feelings slip through the facade. She was obviously a strong, capable woman, and now there was no doubt that she had a strong, capable heart as well.

Jo took over. "Sam went into denial and Dean made fun of _The House Angel_ when we suggested contacting you for help with the house. Then Bobby stepped in. It took him two minutes to goad Dean into a bet, and another beer made Sam agree to anything. So that was when Ash went to fetch the video camera." She shrugged, a bit apologetic. "They really need you, you see. Dean's like a brother to me, and Sam's going to be the best lawyer in the world, he's so clever. Things don't always work out the way he plans, but he's the nicest, most loving guy." She stopped talking for a moment as Gabriel's hellhound decided that she'd be good company and jumped up on the chair. She stroked it slowly as it curled up next to her. "You know that he'd love to get a dog, right? Maybe you could get him a dog too?"

Gabriel looked at the hellhound which was already snoring, head on Jo's thigh.. "Yeah, maybe I could. I'll make sure he gets everything he wants."

Kali stepped in, possibly to stop Gabriel from declaring his undying love to a man he'd never met outside the digital universe. "Mrs Harvelle, what kind of company is it that Mr Winchester runs? A microbrewery, you said?"

"Best beer in Kansas," Jo said. "Funny, too, because Dean was always snubbing that kind of beer before, but he sort of got into it. Bobby got one of those two-barrel systems in on the scrapyard, and Dean tried it out for the sake of it. Turned out he had talent. He makes some odd stuff, but tasty."

"So he brews beer? It doesn't sound very profitable."

"Profitable enough to make him able to buy a used seven-barrel system, but as it is, he needs to expand, and it's not gonna happen; every dollar he has left he saves so that Sam and he might be able to build a new house on the lot. Or send Sam back to finish his education," Jo said. "Dean has ambitions, but he loves his brother too much to act on them. It's not that we don't understand, Mom and me. We'd do the same. Family before anything."

Ellen Harvelle nodded. "And still Dean takes out barely enough for them to live on, and that's when Sam's salary is added to their combined incomes. They even give money to the missing kids' center now and again. It's a pity. Dean could make it big, what with the quality of the beer and everything. We buy a fourth of his production, and we could easily sell more, but as long as he doesn't have the equipment, he can't deliver, and when he can't deliver, we can't buy. It's a vicious circle. With a little help, it could be a good one instead."

Castiel listened. He knew all of that already. Every little piece of vital information about the two Winchesters that their researchers had collected were in the files. But the viewers didn't know, and Mrs Harvelle and her daughter would be good on the screen, telling the Winchesters' story, Cas was sure. While Meg did a bit more footage with the hand-held, Cas looked out the window as they passed neatly trimmed gardens and well-kept townhouses. Lawrence was a nice place, really nice. It had a serene feel to it. Castiel looked longingly at the lovely houses. It wasn't that he disliked living with Gabriel in Sacramento; it just wasn't him. This town, on the other hand, was, at least at a glance. It was peaceful. A small piece of heaven.

He sat, lost in thoughts for minutes, the chatter and the fuss in the bus distant. The bus turned around a corner and stopped in front of a small, dingy bar with a similarly dingy wooden _The Roadhouse_ swinging languidly in the wind. A rather tall man was standing outside, shadowing with a hand against the sun. Castiel's heart skipped a beat. Dean Winchester had looked good in the application video, anyone who wasn't visually impaired could see that. But in person? Castiel bit his lip. He had accused Gabriel of being a bit too interested in Sam Winchester, perhaps unfairly, since Gabriel seemed to be serious, interested in doing things right. It was still unethical, though. They were here to help. And Castiel did not favor double standards. It was impossible. He couldn't allow himself to think of Dean in any other terms than as a deserving person appearing on the show.

Only when Dean Winchester waved and smiled, Castiel knew he was, as Gabriel so eloquently would have put it, beyond redemption.

What _was_ it with those Winchesters?


	4. Good Morning, Winchesters!

The doors slid open and Dean Winchester jumped in. He moved with an ease that Castiel envied; as if he was in control of his body in ways that made Castiel think for a second what Dean would be like in bed — not that he had that much to compare with, but he couldn't help it. Castiel willed himself to concentrate on work instead of on Dean's broad shoulders, forcibly dismissing the idea of a naked Dean, chest slick with sweat, his hands mapping out every inch of it. Instead Castiel watched in silence as Gabriel greeted Dean with a big smile. Gabriel's enthusiasm was contagious, and Winchester was an easy target, seeing that _The House Angel_ had arrived to help Dean set Sam's life straight.

"Thanks, dude!" Dean shook hands with Gabriel who pulled Dean into a hug that wasn't truly to Dean's liking, Castiel imagined. The bright smile paled a little. Castiel stopped himself from wincing. Dean Winchester was homophobic? That didn't bode well, neither for Gabriel's big plans for Sam, nor for Castiel's cooperation with Dean. Castiel held back a breath as Dean stepped back from Gabriel, not a trace of discomfort on the handsome face. "I'm really glad you're here," Dean said. "Sam hasn't got a clue that you're coming."

Right. Except Sam had because Skype probably had to buy extra servers and bandwidth to manage Gabriel's attempt at landing himself an Internet boyfriend. Of course Sam didn't know that they were coming to help him _per se_ ; he still thought that they were there for Dean. Which they were, but Dean didn't know that, either. 

As Meg and Kali chatted with Dean, both women very susceptible to his evident charm, Castiel swore to himself that he'd put a foot down the next time anyone suggested that The House Angel made a double deceit. It was simply not worth the trouble, what with all the double-crossing and going behind backs. Depending, of course, on the ratings; he'd been working in television long enough to have that fact imprinted deeply into his soul. And seeing how Sam and Dean Winchester looked, said ratings would sky-rocket with the female 18-49 segment — Castiel would bet every dollar he owned on it.

Finally Dean let go of Meg, delivering yet another charming smile. Oh, there was no doubt that Dean knew exactly how good he looked. Certainly not a case of missing confidence.

"Cas?" Gabriel turned his attention to Castiel. "Now don't just sit there. Come greet your project."

"I'm a project?" Dean laughed. "Yeah, some would say that. Not as much as Sam; he's a real fixer-upper. I love my brother, but damn, he needs a bit of polish if you want to show him off." Dean stepped closer as Castiel got up from his seat, Dean turning all of his attention to him. "You're Castiel." Dean didn't smile right away; it was as if all his confidence slid off him, for an instant letting Castiel look deeper, under the skin, an odd, raw honesty.

"I know," Castiel said, unable to decide whether to be annoyed or to give in to the attraction. _God_ , Dean Winchester was gorgeous. "Thanks for informing me," he said, knowing already that it made him sound as if he wanted to snub Dean off. "That particular information would have been very useful, had I suffered from amnesia. Which I don't."

The mask slid back on. "Ah. I—" 

The smile worked like a beacon: it warded wayward ships off the cliffs. _Keep your distance_ , it said; a sort of passive-aggressive dismissal, hidden under charm and a touch of flirting. Castiel frowned. He'd always been in trouble reading people, interacting with them: he took things too literally; he didn't understand personal borders; he was too honest. This one he understood: _you may love me. But keep your distance or we'll both get hurt_. 

"I mean, I watch the show with Sam sometimes, and-" Dean turned up the brightness. "And I liked what you did this season. I mean, when Gabriel brought you in." Again the mask seemed to slip a little bit, letting the real Dean show. "It's like you're... you're different. I like it. I— I like _you_. I mean—" 

"Thank you, Dean." Castiel held out his hand, truly pleased because the praise sounded honest. "I am happy that you appreciate our show."

Dean took his hand. Fingers, strong and calloused, wrapped around Castiel's, lingering a second longer than strictly necessary. "It's a guilty pleasure. _The House Angel_ and _Dr Sexy._ I don't watch much TV, but when I have the time, I really... you help other people, help saving them. I like that."

Castiel looked up, sure he was standing a bit too close, but Dean didn't seem to mind. "You're a Dr Sexy fan? And if you are, why feel guilty about it? It is a perfectly legitimate show." 

Castiel had liked Dr Sexy and Seattle Mercy Hospital once. Then Cas had met the actor who played his favorite character at an event at the network's main office and it was over. Castiel had rarely met a more annoying, self-centered individual. He couldn't stand him. Dr Sexy's — Steve's — only redeeming feature was that he was good looking. He was an utter asswipe. He'd hit on Castiel. Hard. Before it had come to as much as a kiss, Castiel had excused himself and that had been the end of it, thank God.

"As I said: a pleasure, and I'm only feeling guilty when Sam teases me with it." Dean smiled again; warding off the question with a flash of white teeth. 

Castiel got the impression that Dean had perfected that evasive behavior through years of practice. Oh, well. If he was going to work with Dean for a week, they could just as well get it over with. "I found him very, very attractive at some point," Castiel said. "Unfortunately I confused reality and fiction; the guy's better on TV. Sorry to burst your bubble," he added, not really wanting to apologize. He didn't owe Steve anything. 

Dean raised an eyebrow. "You're... too?" He sent Gabriel a quick glance. "I mean. If you. Dr Sexy. Your brother, he..." Dean scratched his hair, as if he needed time to process the information.

Usually it was Castiel who either lacked words, or expressed himself clumsily and at length. "Gay? Yes. I am. Is that going to a problem, Dean Winchester? We're going to work together for a full week, and I don't do homophobia well."

This time the ship-warding, yard-fencing smile was gone. A flicker of something more honest, more real and warm grew into a small smile, merely a slight curve on Dean's beautiful mouth. "No. I mean... No." Dean heaved a small sigh; relief or anxiety, Castiel couldn't say. "No," Dean stated again. "It isn't going to be a problem. I swear." He shook his head. "I'm not... I'm. Sam. Sam's bi-."

"Oh." Castiel couldn't stop himself from looking at Gabriel for an instant. "I'm not sure whether Gabriel's aware of that."

"Yeah." This time Dean's smile turned into an honest grin. "As I said, Sam's bi-. Very." He looked at Gabriel again, eyebrow raised.

"Are you trying to convey in a thinly veiled manner that your brother has a crush on my brother?" Castiel asked, lowering his voice. Now, that was surprising, seeing that Dean wasn't supposed to know about Sam's many conversations with Gabriel, so either Dean knew about Gabriel hitting on his brother, or Sam was out and open about his preferences in general. 

"In lesser words: fuck yeah." Dean laughed. "You don't even wanna know how many reruns of House Angel he has watched the last few months. He gets all puppy-eyed every time Gabriel is on the screen. Can't wait to see Sam's face when he finds out what we've been up to, Ellen, Bobby and me. I think Sam is trying to repress that we sent in the video. He hasn't said a word about it for like, two months."

Castiel managed to shove the feeling of bubbling happiness down. Gabriel actually had a chance with Sam Winchester. It wasn't Castiel's secret to reveal, the way Gabriel had been drooling over Sam, so he didn't say anything, not that he could. Sam's participation was still a secret to Dean. "And you're one hundred percent sure that Sam does not know that he is going to have a _House Angel_ make-over in ten minutes?"

"Oh, I can keep a secret all right," Dean said confidently. "He hasn't got a clue."

 _And obviously, neither have you,_ Castiel thought, hoping that Dean hadn't been able to find out by himself that something was going on behind his back while he was planning Sam's surprise with the _House Angel_ -crew. "Good," Castiel said, reaching out without thinking, his hand resting firmly on Dean's shoulder. "Then let's go save your little brother."

\- 0 -

"Hello, Sam Winchester," Gabriel cried enthusiastically into the microphone, his trademark call, making _hello_ sound more like _halo_. "Come out and play; _The House Angel_ is here to save you!" He held on to the wireless mike, the loudspeaker on top of their team bus almost on level with Dean and Sam's small first floor studio apartment. People in the neighboring stores and houses came running out into the street; the Winchesters were popular members of their society and many of the hundreds who had volunteered to come help build a house for Sam were gathering, ready to go to work. The hellhound was yapping and bouncing around Gabriel, exactly as excited as its master.

Sam Winchester stuck his head out the window, hair mussed and his eyes sleepy as if he'd rolled out of bed seconds ago. "What? Gabriel?" 

Gabriel's smile said more than thousand words. Castiel knew it was going to be great television, if only the camera crews had gotten both men at the same time so that they could cut from Gabriel to Sam and back. Castiel knew it'd show, the apparent attraction and their happiness. Yes, it would be very nice. Providing Gabriel was serious with Sam, otherwise there would be no flashing of their budding love on national television. Again, there was no reason to stage a repeat Alastair disaster. 

Sam retracted and there were loud sounds of doors slamming. It took less than thirty seconds before Sam was downstairs, yanking the front door open, a t-shirt half on. "The hell?" Sam almost bounced into the street, all long limbs and clumsiness. Castiel watched him, watched Gabriel as the two men embraced, both looking adorably happy. "I'm not sure I understand. Aren't you here for-" He shut his mouth and looked around, finally finding Dean standing next to Castiel.

"Think again, gorgeous," Gabriel laughed, not letting go of Sam.

"You back-stabbing, deceiving son of a-" Sam laughed and gasped for air enough to speak. "You planned this, didn't you?" He pointed accusingly at Dean. "And I thought you were my brother, but I understand now that you're nothing but a lying ass and probably switched at birth with some evil changeling demon spawn. I'm gonna wring your neck, dude," Sam growled, unable to wipe off the broad smile, laughing and crying at the same time. He extracted himself from Gabriel's perfect impersonation of a handsy squid. Sam pulled Dean into a bear-hug that could have crushed lesser men. 

Dean returned the hug. "You're just so easy, man," he said lovingly, his eyes suspiciously shiny. Sam punched Dean again. It was clear to anyone how close the Winchester brothers were. 

"And _you_ ," Sam said, turning all his 1000 Watt bright attention to Gabriel as he let Dean go. "Oh, man. You are _so_ going to get it."

Gabriel looked far too happy for his own good. "Yes? I'm _so_ looking forward to it." He wiggled his eyebrows before he picked up the hellhound and held it up like a shield between himself and Sam. "Just beware! I have a dog and he will defend me with his life!" Unfortunately the hellhound was wagging its tail merrily as Sam cooed and scratched the dog behind the ear, as it decided that Sam was his new best friend in the world.

"Traitor," Gabriel groaned and snuggled his beloved Jack Russell. "You are supposed to be ferocious and fear-inducing."

"Not that easy, being all of, what, eight inches tall," Sam said. "So, you were in the middle of making threats?" Sam's dimples grew deeper. He only had eyes for Gabriel.

"I promise, I'll get back to them," Gabriel replied. "When I've got myself a dog who's not for sale for a belly rub. But first we're going to tell Dean that being easy clearly runs in the family. Because we can't have all the sneaky plans we made go to waste." Gabriel winked at Sam before he turned to the camera. "When Dean thought he was plotting with us to help Sam, Sam and I were plotting to help Dean. Over here," Gabriel said and pointed in the direction of Harvelle's Roadhouse and the Winchester Beer Company, "lies a small brewery that Dean owns. This week, we're going to help Dean with his business while Dean helps us build a new house for Sam. We have a lot of surprises in store for our two brothers. But first," Gabriel held his hand out, waving Sam closer, "this handsome guy is going on vacation!"

Sam took Gabriel's hand, holding on to it, as if he'd prefer to never let go. "I haven't been on a vacation... ever."

He looked so happy that it made it worth it, all the hard work they did, every long hour, every night of staying up, making sure a worthy recipient had their dreams fulfilled. 

Castiel couldn't hold back a smile, either. The cameraman focused on Castiel. He looked up at Dean before he turned to the camera, all the relief and wonderment and joy visible in the way Dean looked. "It's what we do," Castiel said to the camera. "Creating a new reality from the fabric of dreams."

Gabriel, too, smiled into the lens, releasing all his charm. "But today we're not sending Sam to some place exotic as we usually do. No, we're sending him to California, to Richmond. It might sound boring, but it isn't. Because in California someone is awaiting his arrival eagerly! Look here, Sam," Gabriel demanded, taking a small camcorder that one of the crew handed him. "This is a message from the head of Berkeley Law. Berkeley is offering you a full ride, all the way to the bar exam. And there's an apartment waiting for you as well. And we're sending you off in about ten minutes so that you can go check out your new place there, as well as meeting with your advisors."

"Really?" Sam froze, as if he'd been hit by lightning. "You're not joking? We're talking about going back to school? As in-" He shook his head. "But you're here to help Dean!" he attempted, as if his reality suddenly had been twisted and turned into something unrecognizable. Which probably wasn't far from the truth. 

Kali stepped in. "Berkeley is happy to take you, Sam. You were an extraordinary student who happened to be caught in unfortunate circumstances. We worked with Berkeley to make sure you get a second chance to explore and unfold your full potential. And of course," she said, her eyes filled with laughter, "we expect free legal representation for as long as _The House Angel_ continues to broadcast."

The camera crew pulled back and waited. "Go pack," Kali told Sam. "You'll be gone a week." She held out a small card for Sam to take. "Do some shopping when you arrive. It's on us. Proper clothes for studying, for work, for interviews." She glanced at Gabriel, and Sam smiled at her, as if they understood each other very well. "And for dating," Kali added. "I think you'll need them."

"Dates?" Sam repeated and looked even more happy, the harsh lines of hard work and heavy sorrow less pronounced. He looked directly at Gabriel, making any questions about Sam's sexuality redundant. It was pure electricity the way they looked at each other. "I hope so."

Castiel found it fortunate that the cameras weren't in use right that instant because the eye-sex would had gotten them an instant NC-17 rating. 

"Then that's a done deal," Gabriel said, taking a step closer to Sam, putting his hand lightly around Sam's waist, looking up at him questioningly. 

"Yeah," Sam agreed, looking at Gabriel as if there were no one else in the entire universe than the two of them. "I think it is. I'll go pack, then. Although right now, I'd love to stay _here_."

"Can't wait until you're back," Gabriel said with an expression on his face that Castiel had never seen before, so incredibly tender. Gabriel sighed wistfully when Sam turned and ran back to the apartment building. "A week is a very long time," Gabriel said. "Even with Skype."

"Not when that's all we have to build a house for Sam," Meg argued. "And since Sam probably won't be the only one living in it, I have this feeling that we're going to work extra hard to build a perfect heaven for your Sam."

Dean looked from Gabriel to Meg and back again, as if the entire exchange between Sam and Gabriel had passed without him noticing it. "You have taken a _personal_ interest? A very personal interest?" Dean asked, a slight frown on his brow. Maybe he was that clueless, maybe he really hadn't seen Sam and Gabriel have mad eye-sex with each other right in front of him. Cas huffed. Some straight men were truly blind.

Gabriel nodded, looking at Dean with a serious expression. He sent the camera crew away with a wave of a hand, ensuring that the conversation was kept private. "You could say that. Off the record, I'm very, ve-"

"He paid for the apartment in Richmond with his own money," Meg said, utterly indifferent to whether Gabriel wanted Dean to know or not. "He's all Sam this, Sam that."

"Seriously?" Dean's eyes widened, then turned into narrow slits. He scrutinized Gabriel for a long time before he spoke. "I adore and worship you for coming here, but if you hurt my brother, I'll make you regret it," he said softly, making the underlying threat so much more powerful. "Don't do it for the camera."

"Hate to burst your bubble, dude, but being openly gay on TV isn't necessarily good for the ratings. And I certainly didn't plan to hurt Sam," Gabriel said, confident as usual and in no way fazed with Dean's thinly veiled hostility. "On the contrary. I'm _very_ serious, Dean."

"Yes, thank you," Kali said. "Dean, please, go with Castiel. Cas, take Crew Two with you to the brewery; at least try to stick to our schedule. Meg and I will get Gabriel started on the lot; we have interviews with the builders and people from the community to do."

Dean had relaxed a bit, maybe believing in Gabriel's reassurance. Or perhaps not. Maybe Dean just waited for them to be by alone so that he could ask Castiel all the questions he hadn't had the opportunity to ask. "I thought I was going to help at the lot too?"

"Yes." Castiel nodded, happy that Dean's attention was diverted from Gabriel to him. "You are. Later. We'd like to know more about your work, so we'll go to your workshop first to do interviews and footage on the brewery angle. Just be yourself, we'll edit later. If we need something particular, I'll make sure we have what we need on tape." Castiel stepped closer, as if he was going to let Dean in on a secret. "We have a surprise ready for you, too, so we're going there now," Castiel said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. 

"It's not much of a surprise when you're telling me. Should I be worried?" Dean asked, cocking his head, as he stared at Castiel. Castiel had difficulties looking away. He was often being accused of staring himself, and with Dean it was as if it was impossible to break the connection. The silence dragged out, stretching into discomfort and further, into open curiosity. Castiel felt jittery and nervous and still strangely calm, all at the same time, and he couldn't help licking his lips like a helpless puppy. 

Dean made a choking sound, and the magic was gone. He swallowed visibly. "Okay. I'm ready. Let's go."

Castiel didn't reply. No, Dean shouldn't be worried. And then again, perhaps he should. Castiel didn't know what to think about the entire enterprise, the plan that Gabriel had made. No, Dean shouldn't be worried, because Castiel already was, enough for the both of them. Babysitting a very straight and very handsome Dean Winchester for a week? It could become awkward. It had reached that point already, if Castiel had to admit it. Castiel knew that it would be hard for him to stay professional, keeping the contact with Dean inside the confines of a working relationship. Dean was getting to him in a way that no man had gotten to him before. 

It was not that Dean was beautiful. It wasn't that he was charming and strong. It wasn't that he was smart. It was more than skin deep, and Castiel was unsure whether he could handle it. All he knew was that he had to. 

It would be difficult not to think about how Dean's mouth would feel against his own, how Dean's lean, muscular body would move under his. _God_ , he was screwed. The week couldn't be over soon enough, in Castiel's humble opinion. Dean Winchester was an allure that Castiel did not know how to handle, a temptation that was outside his reach.

But oh, how he wished it could be different.


	5. Winchester Beer

"Fergus MacLeod," Castiel said as Dean opened the gates to his small brewery, only to find a man standing inside. 

Dean stopped, evidently surprised. "What?"

"Sam lent us the spare key," Castiel explained. 

"I figured," Dean said. "Fergus MacLeod? _The_ Fergus MacLeod?"

"One of them. Haven't kept count," MacLeod said. "Pleasure." He held out his hand in greeting. "And you should narrow it down, if there is one Fergus in particular that you're thinking of."

"Likewise." Dean shook the hand offered to him. "The Guinness brew master MacLeod, if that's narrow enough? From _the_ Guinness Brewery? Ireland?"

"The one and only. I'm Scottish, though." MacLeod's voice was deep and a little self-satisfied, as if he was immensely content with himself. Castiel had to admit that the man had reasons enough to be like that — he was after all the master brewer of one of the most famous breweries in the world. Castiel still hadn't decided whether he liked the man or not. They had spoken a few times over the phone, and Castiel still wasn't sure what to think of him.

"What, exactly, are you doing in my workshop?" Dean inquired, looking strangely displeased. "I mean, I'm not stupid; there's beer. I like beer and probably so do you. But I don't understand."

"Boys, come on." MacLeod rolled his eyes. "Castiel, shouldn't you at least have prepared him a little?"

"I am sure the word 'surprise' has the same connotation for both of us," Castiel said. "And telling Dean that you were here would have ruined it entirely, wouldn't you say?" 

MacLeod snorted. "You need to learn one thing, sweetheart: do not separate a man from his beer, or mess with it. And I'm here to mess with it. Look at his annoyed little face. 'Unprepared' didn't earn you any popularity points, so we better work to fix that." MacLeod smirked at Castiel, before he turned and grabbed Dean's arm. "Now, Mr Winchester, show me what you've got. Admittedly, ales are not my forte, but I know a good beer when I taste it, and some say that yours is the best in the entire state. From the samples Castiel sent me, and from what I got from over at Harvelle's yesterday, they weren't exaggerating. On the contrary." 

"But-" Dean began, the look of annoyance changing into one of pride. "What-"

MacLeod looked annoyingly smug. "I am going to take care of your little brewery for a week; then I'm going to draw up suggestions to what can be improved and how you are going to streamline your production. Not going to mess with your recipes; but if you like, I'd love to collaborate with you and create a stout to go with your line of ales. Never — unless you're the owner of a centuries-old Irish brewery — limit your selection to only one type of beer. Keep to your specialty, but be sure to offer a high-quality choice for those who might not want the ale. Satisfy the customer, and make sure you have something to offer that is hard to resist. That's how bargains go: offer something nobody can resist, my boy. That's how you brand."

Castiel trailed along as Dean and MacLeod discussed the ins and outs of brewing beer. Castiel himself preferred wine or water to beer. However, his curiosity was awakened by the talk about barley and hops and water quality and yeast; clearly brewing was a science in itself. "It sounds like chemistry," Castiel said, looking at the various test tubes and thermometers stored on impeccably clean shelves at the back of the workshop. 

"I have a degree in chemistry," MacLeod said. "Necessary. Before I went to the London School of Brewing."

Dean mmm-ed. "I wish I had more than my GED, but I suppose I learned by doing."

"Experimenting?" MacLeod asked.

"Nah, drinking huge amounts of beer from all over the States. I know what I like and now I'm somehow improving, knowing how to get what I want. Not all the time." Dean's turned briefly, looking at Castiel almost hungrily, the look ferocious enough for Castiel's stomach to flutter nervously. "But often enough," Dean added with a certainty that did little to calm the butterflies in Castiel's stomach, as if that look and those words had been meant for him only.

MacLeod patted Dean on the back. "I assume you read a book or two as well. You're not making beer of this quality just out of sheer luck, Winchester."

"Nothing taught at university that isn't written in a book," Dean looked almost apologetic. "Degrees are expensive; library cards are free."

"True that. Let's taste a few, shall we? Beer, not library cards. I'm not sure those are any good."

Castiel couldn't but help to admire Dean Winchester. He was smart, ambitious, and he certainly knew how to navigate in a system that didn't leave someone such as he too many chances. Sam Winchester might be the clever one in the family, but Dean wasn't just tagging along. Castiel had to admit that he liked every layer of himself that Dean Winchester revealed. 

Castiel tried to collect what little brain he had left that wasn't affected by Dean's presence. He was here to work. "At ten in the morning?" Castiel didn't drink much, and he most certainly didn't drink before dinner. He liked to stick to the customary no-drinks-before-5 p.m. rule. "I'm used to wine," he said, as if it explained everything.

Mind-reading clearly was one of MacLeod's talents, however. "Come on, Castiel. Don't be a bore. It's 5 p.m. somewhere in the world. We're going to _taste_ ; we're not getting drunk."

Followed by the camera crew, Dean lead them to the part of the small factory where the barrels stood; shiny steel towers, as clean as the rest of the brewery. Dean fetched a small cart with a stash of tall beer glasses on it. "We can taste this batch directly from the barrel, but some of the other beers we have to take on the bottle; I don't have the capacity to have an ongoing production of every type I make." Dean took a glass and poured a dark red, aromatic beer from a small tap on the closest barrel. "This one's called _Demon Blood_ ," Dean said, handing the glass to MacLeod. "It's new. Want some?" he asked Castiel, holding up an empty glass.

Castiel nodded. "I'd like to try." The beer smelled of fall and wet leaves and sweet apples rotting on the ground. It smelled a little of death, in that alluring way that fall always smelled to Castiel, as if he could sense the year dying. Carefully Castiel took the glass, and was about to take a deep drink, when Dean stopped him with a hand on his wrist.

"Taste the foam first. I should be creamy and aromatic and a little spicy. Then you take _one_ mouthful, make sure the liquid touches both the tip of your tongue and the back of it, so that your taste buds are properly activated; makes it easier to separate the various notes and overtones."

"Like wine?" Castiel didn't think that beer was that complicated. It was just water and grain and yeast. He really didn't understand what all the fuss was about, but he was willing to try.

"Exactly like wine. It's not that different. I brew vintage beer as well. Got one that's called _Thirty Years in Hell_. It's supposed to mature for thirty years, obviously, then it will probably top, and be at its best for like ten years. People don't realize that brewing beer is as much an art form as proper wine-making. More difficult, even. More combinations, a huge variety of ingredients, all sorts of mistakes to make. Sometimes you get it right. Like this one." Dean nodded in the direction of the barrel of Demon Blood.

A camera zoomed in on Castiel as he did what Dean had told him, careful to taste every nuance of the beer. It was spicy and a lot stronger than the beer he was used to; bitter, weak fluids that Castiel disliked. But this... "This is good!" he stated, much to his own surprise. "What kind of beer is it?" He looked at the barrel with its hand-drawn label as if it could reveal the secret to brewing such a sweet-tasting and spicy beer.

"Ale, traditional English ale. Sam complained that I never eat vegetables." Dean grinned. "So I threw apples and carrots into the mash. It shut him up for a week."

"Carrots. Hence the earthy notes," MacLeod added, looking a little impressed. "Clever. Only thing I can think of that might improve it is to brew it out of a cast iron barrel as to give it a slight note of metal. Might not appeal to everybody's taste, though." MacLeod paused, thinking. "No, I'd keep it. Great beer. Distinct, but not too distinct. Not bad for an amateur. "

The offended expression on Dean's handsome face was enough to make MacLeod smirk. "Interesting how people tend to misunderstand that word. Being an amateur is in this case a high praise. No formal education, and you make _this_? Winchester, I am trying to restrain myself, but I am actually green with envy." MacLeod patted the steel barrel lovingly as if to show his appreciation.

Placated, Dean took them into the adjoining rooms where the bottled products were stored. The three of them tasted and chatted as the camera followed them around. Cas felt a bit buzzed after tasting _Holy Water_ — something he learned was India Pale Ale — _Soul Shaker_ that was so strong that Cas had to spit it out, coughing, accompanied by Dean's regrets that he hadn't warned him that it packed a full thirty percent. 

Castiel decided that he liked _Angel Mojo_ best; a lovely ruby ale, brewed on chocolate toffee malt. "I really like this one," Castiel said, again catching himself staring at Dean Winchester as Dean's lips met the rim of a glass, full pink lips sliding over and around the slender glass. 

Dean's mouth curled upwards, as if he was pleased that he'd convinced him that beer was worth his consideration. "Good," he said, licking his lips before he put the glass down.

Castiel hoped that the buzz would disappear very soon, preferably before he made a fool of himself. "I thought beer was always bitter, but this is so good. All of your beers are, except that strong one."

"You've been drinking Buds, right? Budweiser?" MacLeod held up his glass, studying the color of the content. "Different brewing method. Budweiser is what's called pale lager. Dry and crisp and light. Slightly bitter. Some lagers are undrinkable, others somewhat better. But... " He wrinkled his nose. "No. They're all undrinkable. American lagers are to beer what McDonald's is to food. Then again, not even Urquell Prazdroj manages to make a decent pilsner out of it, and they are responsible for the outrage in the first place. Far too modest on the hops."

"We are cutting that," Castiel said to the cameraman. "Can't afford a lawsuit." He attempted to puppy-eye MacLeod into submission; for some reason that eluded Castiel, most people were quite susceptible when Castiel looked at them like that. "Could we take that again, please, but without the brand names? Maybe people who aren't fond of beer might give Dean's creations another try when they learn the difference between the various types?"

"The American people should sue Budweiser for bottling cat-pee-spiced water, pretending it's beer," MacLeod growled, not insusceptible to _The Eyes_. "Budweiser's an offense to the senses."

"And I don't think we'll use that part, either." Castiel chuckled, pleasantly relaxed by a little too much beer. Obviously there was little comparison between a hand-brewed, carefully crafted beer and a product that more or less came directly out of the water supply, possibly with an added secret ingredient like the excretions of smaller household pets. "But you do have a point."

"Aww, so we made Cas abandon his French cuisine ways and love beer?" Dean high-fived MacLeod who hesitated only a second before smacking his palm against Dean's. 

"I am not sure that _love_ can be used in that connection," Castiel argued for the sake of it. "I love _people_. Beer is a beverage, and not able to reciprocate. Hence, it would be a moot point to bestow such feelings on a mix of water and barley."

"Yes, tell me more about that, about people and love," Dean demanded, "anyone special?" He sent Castiel a flirty grin. "And my only love is beer: it must be taken care of while it ferments and develops, like a kid growing up." Dean let out a bitter laughter. "Not that I'd know; my father left us with Uncle Bobby for months while he were going God knows where."

"Oh," Castiel managed, feeling sad and strangely disappointed and happy, all at the same time. Of course Dean didn't just love beer; Castiel had seen how he took care of Sam. It did, however, sit well with him that Dean so readily admitted not to love anyone at all, that he didn't have a girlfriend. Not that it meant anything.

"Oh? Disappointed?" Dean laughed, a sweet laughter tinged with a hint of bitterness. "There is Sam, obviously."

"I-" Castiel rarely was at a loss for words, but Dean had that effect on him. Or perhaps it was just because Castiel was staring again, fascinated, mapping out the sprinkle of freckles on Dean's nose, forgetting how to speak in favor of looking at Dean's handsome visage.

"Cas?" Dean's flirty smile slid off his mouth, turning into an insecure curl of lips. "Do I have something on my face?"

Except for the most adorable expression known to mankind, and the sexiest freckles ever to decorate a nose since the creation of man? "No. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare at you." 

"It's fine. Stare all you like. I'm pretty." Dean winked, the mask of confidence back up. "Suppose I should get used to it, what with the cameras in my face and all."

Castiel decided to ignore the slight flirting. Dean was married to his brewery; he wasn't gay and flirting with anything with a pulse was probably Dean's default setting. Fighting to get back in control, Castiel turned to MacLeod, waiting for the camera crew to be ready so they could get on with their conversation. "So, master MacLeod... this week you're going to take care of Dean's brewery and the batch he's currently creating. But we have yet another surprise for Dean," Castiel said, alternating between looking into the camera and at Fergus MacLeod. "What is it that you've come up with, Fergus?"

"I've been working for a while on a recipe, a suggestion, for a new type of beer for Dean's brewery. As I said before, I'd like to cooperate... Guinness would like to cooperate with Dean. We know talent when we see it. So, this recipe... It's for a stout type that would suit the Winchester brand and the line of beer Dean already produces. Now, at Guinness we make stout. We're good at it, and we've done it for centuries. We work to keep our stout as it has been for hundreds of years, so it has been exciting to work with something else, something different. Based on traditional stout, I've made suggestions to a black stout brewed heavily on organic black malt that gives a slightly ashy taste and a deep black-reddish color. Whether it needs to be balanced out a bit... that is up to the brew master himself; what we have delivered is only the base. It's meant to be a cooperation between Guinness and Winchester, and Guinness has kindly allowed us to use their name and mine on the label if Dean wants to have that up there with his name."

"Damn," Dean said. "That's... incredible." He looked proud, as if he for the first time had received acclaim and praise that truly stuck. Castiel was pleased. Dean might not be one for big declarations of happiness, but even Castiel could see that the open appreciation of what he did made Dean happy. What he might have seen as an intrusion to begin with had now turned into open appreciation of his talent, and Dean soaked it up like a rain-starved desert. He blushed slightly. It was adorable.

"And you've brought samples?" Castiel went on, trying to ease the conversation away from Dean, leaving him a small break. 

"Yes." Fergus reached into his coat's deep pockets and pulled up a few small bottles. "It's not finished; it'll be up to Dean to tweak the recipe to his liking. On behalf of Guinness I would like to extend an invitation: we would very much like Dean to visit our factory. Not just so we can show off; we'd like him to participate in a master class for brew masters that we hold bi-annually. I'm confident that we can learn from each other. Brewing is easy, but brewing innovative, brilliant beer isn't: it demands actual talent and imagination, and Dean has it in abundance. You can't learn this feeling for what's right when it comes to beer. Dean has a true sense."

Dean took one of the bottles and popped it open, pouring the content slowly into a glass. "Nice foam." He breathed in deeply, savoring the scent. "Caramel, ashes, whiskey. Not bad." He took a sip, squinting as he tasted the beer. "I'd add distillers' malt or peated malt to get a deeper taste of whiskey and smoke," he mused. "Or honey and melanoidin malts to add sweetness to counter-balance." He held up the glass with the black stout. "Color's beautiful. Tinge of red's brilliant." He tasted it again, making Castiel sink immediately into a dreamy state where there was nothing but Dean's elegant throat stretched and swallowing.

Castiel fought an urge to lean forward and lick it. "May I?"

Dean licked his lips, leaving them wet and shiny. Castiel closed his eyes for a moment. 

Dean offered the glass to Castiel, and Castiel turned it, purposely avoiding the spot where Dean's lips had touched it. Castiel took a small sip. "Hell. Uh."

"Don't like it?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "The temperature isn't right, obviously. One wouldn't usually carry around bottles in one's pocket," he added.

"It's... brutal."

"I guess you could call it that... if you're not used to stouts and heavier beer. I guess you never tasted a standard Guinness. Black stouts are like this, a cornucopia of notes and aftertaste. It's probably an acquired taste, but you'll get used to it. I'll teach you."

He'd get used to it? Castiel froze again, deer caught in the headlight, staring at Dean. "Used?"

Nodding, Dean reached for the glass, his fingers landing partly on top of Castiel's. "Yeah. And I'll add chocolate malt. Honey. And a healthy helping of caramel malt to make it a sweet torture for people such as my Castiel here. Vienna Carahell malt, I think."

Castiel gasped and pulled his hand away, trying to ignore the possessive pronoun and the possessive hand on his. _My. Mine. Dean's_. Refusing to fall further into the trap that was his attraction to Dean, Castiel thought about the beer that Dean would tailor to his tastes. He tried to imagine how the dark notes would turn smooth and sweet with added flavor of toffee. It would probably be like being tempted into Hell with the sweet promises from the Devil himself. Castiel looked at Dean again. "Carahell? It's really called that? Oh! That would make it a Black Hell. That'd be a nice name for it."

Dean nodded a genuine, wide smile spreading across his face. "It would. And you'll come save me when I fall into the dark pit, right? Black Hell it is."

\- 0 -

They worked for a while as Castiel carried out the needed interviews. When they were done the camera crew went shooting necessary additional footage while Dean and Fergus MacLeod talked about the factory. Castiel hovered, somehow forgetting that he'd promised himself to stop staring at Dean. So Castiel stared. He stared while Fergus explaining how he was going to keep the production running during the upcoming week. He stared as Dean realized that he had to stay with the House Angels over at Sam's new lot at the other end of town all week. And he stared as Dean admitted that MacLeod surely wouldn't have problems, managing the small production line for him.

Seeing how relaxed Dean was in the company of another brew master, so obviously happy to talk shop with a colleague, Castiel knew that he'd do what he could to help Dean to a better, more profitable way to run his business. It was clear that it had to be done without compromising on quality and innovation and creativity. Calling in numerous favors to land a capacity like MacLeod had just been the first step in that direction. Castiel wasn't done with Dean Winchester — far from — and he wasn't in doubt that it would be worth it, every second of hard work. 

MacLeod wasn't just anybody, and wild horses couldn't have dragged him away from Ireland, had Dean not showed the level of talent that leading capacities in the States said he had. Despite knowing close to nothing about beer, Castiel appreciated being able to watch the birth of a renowned master brewer. No matter what happened, nobody could take from Dean the talent and drive he had. He just needed a small push, a supporting hand on his shoulder, and Castiel liked that he was the one who could lend that hand.

Castiel collected himself, once more trying to act like a professional and not like a besotted idiot. So he managed to pretend that he was doing his job while the camera men got ready for a last take.

Under the close scrutiny of the camera, Dean handed over the keys to the brewery and to his apartment. Fergus MacLeod was supposed to stay in the studio during the week when Dean was gone, but it was merely an excuse for the House Angels to get their hands on said keys so that Dean wasn't tempted to return before time. They were ready to start tearing walls and ceiling down as soon as Dean left. An architect had worked closely with the owner of the building, allowing Dean's small studio an upwards extension: an unused loft above would more than double the square footage, leaving room for an open kitchen, a generous bathroom and a nice living room with a terrace. The larger downstairs room would be converted into two bedrooms and yet another bathroom. All permissions were applied for, and all they needed now was for Dean to be somewhere else before they upended his home and built him a new one.

"I assume you are ready to relocate?" Castiel asked, pulling up his phone, watching the crew leave, followed by MacLeod who was going to pretend moving into Dean's apartment for the week. Castiel pressed a speed dial number, knowing that his usual driver would be there almost instantly. "From now on, we won't get much sleep." Castiel knew how much of a tyrant Gabriel could be when they were working, and Kali was just as bad, if not worse. "You did pack a few Band-Aid?" he couldn't stop himself from saying.

Huffing, Dean sent Castiel a glare. "I'm perfectly able to handle power tools without cutting off vital limbs," he said, teasingly. "You, on the other hand, look as if you'd rather handle a nail file."

"I recall that you revealed to us that you watch the show regularly," Castiel said, mock serious, not really offended. "So unless you drank too much of that nice beer and feel asleep in front of the television during every episode, you are perfectly aware that I am able to handle anything from a nail file to a bulldozer." Castiel pursed his mouth, looking up at Dean. "And I can fly," he added, just because he could and because he wanted to make Dean smile again.

Dean burst into laughter. "Cannot!"

"Can too!" Castiel pouted deliberately. He liked Dean's smile.

"Cannot! You think you have wings or something?" Dean stepped a bit closer and put his hand on Castiel's back where his alleged wings would be, according to Dean Winchester.

Castiel shivered and wished Dean would keep his hand there. "Can too," he insisted again. "I have more than 1,500 flight hours in a Learjet."

"Fuck! Seriously?"

"Yes, Dean." Castiel held back a sigh. "And I'll take you up with me, if you don't believe me. Apart from that, we really should get out of here. Before I feel an urge to fight over teddy bears and Matchbox cars or other toys with you."

"Don't know what you're missing out on," Dean said knowingly. "I have very interesting toys." He grinned wickedly. "And I hate flying, so you better come up with something else, something interesting I can do with you."

"Are you flirting with me?" Cas demanded, unable to stop the question before it had escaped his mouth. Obviously his brain had deserted him some time ago. Thank God the crew had already left. These little exchanges really didn't need to be taped and thus become available to Gabriel. Gabriel would never let him hear the end of it. "Because it's not working and you aren't interested anyway," he heard himself say, his tone of voice tinged with regret.

"Is that so?" Dean shrugged and walked towards the exit, his hips swaying a bit too enticingly for Castiel to hang on to his full sanity, what little of it his libido had left. Dean looked over his shoulder, deliberately seductive, biting his lips in the most alluring way. "Good to know that you can read my mind. Or that you think you can."

Castiel swallowed. Dean Winchester's presence seemed to heat up the entire factory. God, he was hot.

A week was going to be a very, very long time, indeed.


	6. A Lot of Work

The car stopped in front of an empty lot, although 'empty' only denoted that the lot had yet to have a finished house on it.

The build site was chaos. It was always like that: with hundreds of workers, doing dozens of different tasks at the same time, chaos was inevitable. It was how they worked, fast and hard. The workers had been incredibly fast and the house that had been nothing but the finished foundation that morning were now beginning to look like a house. Most of the outer walls were up, and it still amazed Castiel how fast builders were able to work when they put their mind and The House Angel's money to it.

Kali was the one who led the troops into battle; Castiel suspected that she had some kind of hitherto unrecognized omniscience, seeing that their plans rarely went wrong. Gabriel was the evil enabler, cheering people on, supporting them so that they worked harder and longer than they thought they could. Gabriel, despite his apparent seven levels of crazy, was strangely disciplined and relentless underneath it all, Castiel knew that, too. Meg was the sweetest: she came up with brilliant design ideas; she was snarky and funny and knew exactly when to offer a soda or a cup of coffee to make a volunteer go that extra mile for her. She made stores and factories _want_ to offer her their money and goods, and the entrepreneurs loved her. But it was a mistake to take her for being weak — she handled a chainsaw like it was all she'd done her entire life. Cas had to admit that had he swung that way, he'd been interested, very interested. Meg was... lovely. And she was taken, not surprisingly. Her boyfriend Jimmy was dedicated to her. He had the temper to manage life with a spouse who was rarely at home.

The House Angel's team was a brilliant cooperation between competent, enthusiastic people. Sometimes Castiel had difficulties understanding how his contribution was important. Mostly he stared awkwardly at things and houses and people, slightly clueless to what was happening. There were times when he believed that he was only on the show because he was Gabriel's brother. 

It was true, though, what Castiel had told Dean earlier: Castiel was good with power tools, and a competent carpenter. He was a fast and precise worker, and his craftsmanship, when it came to carpentry, was above average. It did not worry him too much, though. He was the new man on the job, and he assumed it took time to fit in, to find the exact niche that was his. He loved his work, providing possibilities for people whose lives had left them with little or no opportunities. He was quite aware that the make-overs didn't always have happy ends: larger houses meant larger expenses, but they tried. He tried.

And until this particular day he'd always viewed himself as a professional, working with a professional distance: he was compassionate, however still uninvolved.

Until he met Dean Winchester. 

"Cas? Cas, we're here." Dean's voice pulled Castiel out of his musing. "Hello? Earth to Cas!"

Dean moved closer, shifting in the seat, his thigh suddenly resting warmly against Castiel's. Castiel swallowed, feeling his cheeks warm up, too. "Sorry. I- Yes. This is here. The lot," he attempted, managing to confuse himself, caught up in the sudden touch. It was nothing, he told himself, Dean hadn't meant to touch him. And what Castiel felt was merely physical attraction, _one-sided_ physical attraction, and he had to suppress it, kill it before it interfered with his ability to work with Dean. 

It was a week. He could do it. He could.

"Cas, get out!" Dean leaned over him, pushing the door open, his broad chest across Castiel's lap, Dean's strong fingers on his arm. Dean got up, halfway. He was too close — close enough for Cas to feel the damp warmth of his breath on his skin. It tingled hotly in places where Castiel did not want to tingle. 

"I thought you were in charge here?" Dean smiled and Castiel lost his ability to breathe. 

Yes, he could do it. 

Surely. 

Then again, maybe not.

\- 0 -

Gabriel and the hellhound came bouncing to greet them. It always amazed Castiel how enthused Gabriel was, both on the show, and off it. He should be used to it, seeing that they were brothers and had lived together most of the time. It said a lot about Gabriel and his unpredictability that he was still able to make Castiel wonder whether he actually knew Gabriel at all.

"Cassie!" Gabriel slung an arm around Castiel, grinning like mad. "So happy you're here; I have a job for you, kiddo — you and your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend," both Castiel and Dean both said, glaring at Gabriel who obviously couldn't care less.

"No, but he will be," Gabriel stated with a certainty that made Castiel want to wring his neck. "Unless you stop looking at him like you do." He smiled knowingly, making Castiel wonder if it was possible to lure Gabriel to a secluded area of the lot, preferably somewhere where he could bring a chainsaw, a deep freezer and several large pieces of plastic, as not to ruin the house they were building with gore and blood.

"Sorry to disappoint you, man, but I don't swing that way." Dean smiled, as if it mattered little to him what Gabriel had said. Dean bent down to pick up the hellhound, and Castiel couldn't help looking. Staring. Dean's ass was a mighty fine one.

Gabriel just chuckled. "Dude, Cassie is checking you out. He never checks anyone out. You're doomed, I tell you. You don't stand a chance at the onslaught of those baby-blues."

Castiel sighed. His face felt hot with embarrassment. "Gabriel, please stop. I have no interest in people I work with; I have told you that over and over. I'm sure Dean feels that way too." Castiel knew every word was a lie, and he didn't lie. Well, usually. It was true that Castiel had never looked at any participant with desire before today. 

Until the moment Dean Winchester stepped into his life. 

"Tell us what we need to work on, and stop harassing Dean," Castiel demanded, turning around in a futile attempt to hide the blush.

"Cute! So protective of your sweetheart." Pointing at one of the pavilions, Gabriel got a grip and decided to be serious. "You're going to be in charge of the kitchen. It's a bit of a challenge, since it will have to accommodate workspaces for Gigantor and _someone_ of a significantly smaller stature."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Dean frowned, looking as if he was trying to create a new world view out of the information he'd just received. "Sam's living alone. Well, when he's not living with me."

"Not for long." He patted Dean on the back. "I leave you to draw your own conclusions, kiddo." Gabriel grabbed the hellhound from Dean and stuck it under one arm, despite its loud protests. "Later, peeps!"

"Is he always like that?" Looking a little embarrassed, Dean turned away, grabbing the duffel that the driver had picked from the trunk. "Not entirely normal."

It made Castiel smile. "He is not exactly conforming to the rules of society." Castiel pursed his lips. "Or to politeness, for that matter. I'm used to him and my advice to the inexperienced in all matters Gabriel is never to take anything he says seriously."

Fiddling with his bag, Dean turned around. This time there was a look in his eyes that told Castiel, regardless of his inability to read most people, that Dean was deadly serious. "And what about the _anything_ he says to my brother?"

Castiel swallowed nervously. What if? What if the way Gabriel acted, pursuing Sam Winchester for months was just because he could? What if it was merely Gabriel's usual joking around and messing with perception? _No_ , Castiel decided immediately. Gabriel was serious about Sam Winchester. Gabriel was a flirt and a joker, but if he'd told Sam he was into him, that he was interested, Gabriel hadn't lied. Gabriel's and Sam's Skyping had been more than planning. Gabriel had found someone he wanted, Castiel was sure of it. Gabriel was very, very serious. 

Castiel took a step closer to Dean. He was invading his personal space, that much he knew, but that instant he didn't care. Making Dean understand how Gabriel worked... it was important. Important that Dean understood that underneath the surface, Gabriel was loving and faithful and all kinds of good. It was a different kind of good than the kind Castiel liked, but Gabriel was good. At least they tried to be. Gabriel was just much better at pretending to be something else. Gabriel fucked with people, he loved that, but he didn't fuck them over unless they deserved it. 

"If he says it to your brother," Castiel said, looking Dean in the eye, "Then you better believe it, and so should Sam. There is no one more trustworthy than Gabriel when it comes to... when it comes to love."

Dean nodded, his tense jaw relaxing. "Good."

The tension between them eased a bit. "Would you like to deposit your luggage in the tour bus?" Castiel stepped back, understanding that he was making Dean feel uncomfortable. "I'll get you a key; the bus has everything you need... kitchen, bath, bed." Castiel walked towards the coach. "We should get to work asap. We don't have much time, even though we were able to start on the lot beforehand. If I let you loose with a collection of power tools..."

"I know the basics." Dean followed, leaning against the bus as Castiel unlocked it. "Do most of the tubes and pipes at the brewery myself. Good at plumbing and mechanical stuff. Cars." Dean walked up the short stairs to the lounge, stopping only for a second as he took in the luxurious interior. "Awesome!" He stepped aside to let Castiel in.

Castiel waved Dean with him to the back of the bus where bunk beds lined the walls. "That's odd," Castiel murmured. He looked at the sticky notes, searching for Dean's assigned bed. He cocked his head, staring at the beds. "They can't have forgotten that you're coming to stay with the crew. They haven't—"

"Here." Dean pointed at the door in the far end of the bus. "Your name's here too."

"But that's—" This time Castiel frowned. He was going to kill Gabriel. 

Dean opened the door. "Dude!"

"I'm sorry, Dean. I assume my brother, our beloved team leader, has decided that we shall suffer a week of embarrassment and humiliation." Castiel shook his head in denial. "I can go sleep in one of the tents."

"What is this place anyway?" Dean put the duffel down on the queen's bouncy surface. He straightened up, scratching his neck almost nervously. 

"Gabriel's." Castiel watched as Dean's eyes widened as his gaze slid over the gaudy interior. "His does have impeccable taste, but he had fun going full out with this. He wanted a proper trailer-style bedroom. I think he confused it with trailer-trashy. Distasteful doesn't really cover it." 

Dean poked at the red and silver bedspread. "'Distasteful' covers every inch of this if you ask me. God, it's horrible. And who's sleeping on the floor? You or me?" Dean eyed the bed with suspicion.

"I'll sleep outside, in the tents. Or in one of the other coaches," Castiel said, knowing that Gabriel would prevent him from grabbing one of the bunk beds in the team bus. Gabriel could be terribly determined when he'd put his mind to something. "Gabriel is trying to mess with me. I'd just lie awake and stare at you all night, if—"

"Dude, now you're creepy. And stop being an idiot. There's room for us both, it's not as if I'm going to grab your ass in my sleep or something."

"You wanted me to sleep on the floor minutes ago, Dean."

"Yeah, that was before I realized that it'd be so much more entertaining not to let your brother know that I said that. You sleep in the bed, and Gabriel shuts his cakehole. He's not getting to me. Or to you, is that understood?" 

Dean looked awfully determined and Castiel felt a strange urge to comply. "Yes, Dean. But challenging our beloved team leader might get you in trouble. You do not want to be the target of his pranks, and believe me, he _will_ dedicate every free moment of his time to come up with vicious ideas if he thinks you're trying to get back at him."

"Then maybe he should stop talking about us as if we were a done deal. I'm not gay, and you're not interested, and that's it. The sooner he understands that, the better."

"Then maybe you should stop flirting with me," Castiel suggested, looking down. He didn't want Dean to see how much he liked it; how much he liked _Dean_. 

"You really don't think I'm coming on to you, are you?" Dean smiled, an honest smile. "It's just.... Dunno. Teasing. But I _am_ damned hot, that much's true. And charming."

"But your confidence needs a boost. Such a pity to meet such an adorable young man with so little self-esteem," Castiel dead-panned, happy that he for once managed an attempt to be funny. "And as you said, you are not gay." Which was good. If only Dean held on to that feeling, maybe there was an actual chance that Castiel would be able to get through the week without making an utter fool of himself. "And I'm not interested," Castiel lied, hoping that everything would get easier as soon as the started working on the kitchen the team had designed for Sam.

As it were, it didn't get easier at all.

\- 0 -

"Hand me the screwdriver." Castiel reached for it, but didn't manage. Dean wiped his brow and grabbed the tool, pushing it across the plastic-covered surface of the kitchen island. Swearing, Castiel attempted to make the door to one of the cabinets behave, to no avail. He slammed the door, annoyed with the hinges.

"Violence doesn't solve anything," Dean argued. Precious, seeing he'd just slammed yet another door in annoyance. He got up from his side of the island. "Whack it with a hammer. And who the hell made this crappy pile of shit? They should fucking install it themselves. Not that I think they could."

"Gabriel wanted these," Castiel pointed at the cabinets. Gabriel had been very particular about the kitchen. Castiel suspected that if things with Sam went as Gabriel wanted them to go, he'd use a substantial amount of time in this particular kitchen, baking and cooking. Sam Winchester would be in for a treat in more ways than one. "And I can't use the hammer unless I grow another hand. I think they manufactured this dung for an alternate reality in which people have more arms. Or they have sent us a set that was meant to be purchased by octopi. Octopuses. Whatever. Things with more tentacles and suction cups than us."

"Luckily it works when it's assembled," Dean laughed, opening and closing the door he'd just managed to connect with the actual cabinet. "Hold on, let me help you. I think I've got it." He walked around the island, and kneeled down next to Castiel before Castiel could refuse. 

As Dean slid down behind him, Castiel tried to control himself. It was as if every inch of his body reacted to Dean, especially _those_ inches. Dean smelled spicy and fresh, and Castiel had to stop himself from leaning closer. Dean was pure magnetism, and Cas was fighting to stay calm. The urge to touch Dean made Castiel dizzy with need. He'd never felt like that, never felt his body react so strongly to another man. Castiel's otherwise so clear mind felt foggy and sluggish, his common sense entangled in a cobweb of desire, for desire was exactly what it was. He had to fight it; it rendered his brain useless and limp as a poison made of equal parts lust and need slowly spread through it. Castiel had difficulties thinking straight. 

Willing himself to ignore Dean's presence and the electrifying sensation of Dean's strong thigh rubbing against his own, Castiel fought the screwdriver, fumbling. He dropped a few screws on the floor. 

"Really, Cas? Hold on. I'll hold the door and you screw on the hinges." Dean pulled back, then moved behind Castiel, a leg on each side of him, close enough to reach around him and hold the door. 

Castiel almost dropped the screwdriver as well. He gasped loudly, far too loudly, as Dean pressed his chest against Castiel's back. He didn't dare look over his shoulder. Dean's breathing was calm, warm puffs on Castiel's skin. Fidgeting desperately, Castiel managed to conquer the upper hinge. 

"There we go. Much easier like this; we'll be done in no time." Dean moved closer, his hips pressing against Castiel's ass. 

Oh, _fuck_. Castiel swore silently, a clear sign of how far gone he was already. "Dean, please?" Castiel needed Dean to move away. Now! Before he gave himself away. "Could you..."

"What? Sure." Dean moved even closer to get a better hold of the door. Castiel had no idea whether Dean was being deliberately obtuse or if he was just downright ignorant. Dean had to know the effect he had on people. Castiel had been staring too much at Dean already, revealing his interest. If Dean hadn't yet understood that Castiel was attracted to him, then Dean wasn't half as clever as Castiel suspected he was. 

But Dean didn't move. At least not in the right direction.

Submitting to fate, Castiel ignored his body's reactions, thinking about anything but Dean's sweaty chest and his strong arms and the scent of spices and mint that made Castiel breathe in deeply because he couldn't help himself taking that small, secret pleasure for himself. Oh, God. There were still ten unattached doors left. Castiel wasn't sure he was going to survive. 

One door was in place, then the next and after the third, Castiel had to congratulate himself for his newfound backbone. Not that he was really in doubt that he had one, since Dean was very, very close to it. Clearly he'd decided that rubbing his entire torso against Castiel's back was the best way to go about installing the cabinet doors. 

Concentrating on the sounds of hammering and sawing, of builders shouting at each other and of the nice catering people offering workers water and refreshments, Castiel was able to get back into working mode. The remaining cabinets were assembled twice as fast as they'd have been, had Dean not suggested that they worked on them together. 

It was strange to find out that they did, in fact, work smoothly together, like a well-oiled engine. If Castiel hadn't found Dean disturbingly attractive, they'd made a great team.

After the doors they continued fitting shelves into the cabinets. It was late, though, when they were finally done, the sky dark. Cas wiped his brow with one dirty work glove. "Done! I could eat a horse. And sleep like one, providing it was a deceased horse. Damn, I'm dead."

"Me too. And good work, dude!" Dean high-fived, and Castiel snorted; he wasn't a teenager, but raised his hand anyway. 

They both looked at the assembled kitchen. "It's nice," Castiel said, sliding a hand over the sanded work surface. The tabletop was still a bit greasy with the linseed oil Cas had used on it earlier. 

Dean nodded. "Okay, I'll give Gabriel that, it's going to look damned classy when it's done and finished. Your brother isn't entirely without talent."

"Seeing that he is currently employed by a large network, doing a weekly design show that millions like to peruse for entertainment, that would be an understatement," Castiel pointed out. "My brother is annoying, but he does have taste. He likes beautiful things."

"Like my brother?" Dean didn't look too enthused about the idea. "Sam is good looking."

"My brother isn't that superficial." Castiel sent Dean a dissatisfied glare. He grabbed a pair of Cokes from one of the catering people as they passed by, offering drinks and snacks. "You want one?" It was almost a peace offering.

"Please! I'm parched. And let's go find something to eat. Something more substantial than Kit-Kats and apples." Dean's stomach rumbled to underline that snacks hadn't been enough.

Castiel opened the can and drank half of the content. He leaned against the counter of the kitchen they had just finished, quiet, pondering how to explain Gabriel to Dean. Gabriel was rather overwhelming to people who didn't know him, Castiel knew. But he didn't want Dean to judge his older brother unfairly. "Gabriel always refused to conform," he started. "He has always been the odd one out. He's always done precisely what he wanted to do." Castiel's kept his voice low, as if he was speaking to himself. "At a first glance he's nothing but a superficial ass. But he's genuine. Loving. Honest and loyal to those he loves. Trustworthy."

Dean stepped a bit closer, an unfortunate side-effect to not wanting others to hear. "You're telling me that I shouldn't be worried? If you look at it from our side, mine and Sam's... you do understand, right?"

"Listen..." Castiel sighed. "Gabriel and Sam have been speaking with each others for months. For _months_ , Dean. I don't pretend to understand, but it seems to me that it is actually possible to fall in love on the Internet."

"Is it... Are they... do you think the really are?" Dean sounded strangely insecure. The Winchester brothers hadn't exactly had easy lives and Dean was worried, maybe afraid of what could happen to Sam, to himself, if The House Angel wasn't what it appeared to be. There were shows enough out there that did little but to use up the participants, regardless of the consequences. Dean was protective — it would be odd if he wasn't. Castiel understood. He, too, was protective when it came to family. 

"I am certain you do not like what I am going to say, Dean, but you remind me of Gabriel. The same need to protect, the same view on family." Castiel sighed, trying hard to explain what he meant. "Gabriel would never deliberately hurt Sam. I swear, he will take care of him. Please, don't judge my brother from what you see on the surface."

Dean's stomach decided to join the conversation. It growled loudly and Dean's made a face. "Talk about timing." He sighed. "I'll try. Dunno... I don't trust your brother, but maybe I trust you, Cas. Don't make me regret it. And could you please point me in the direction of food. Any food."

"Catering? Or I could make us something in the coach? There's air condition in the bus, though, so it'd be more pleasant to go there."

"And a shower. Dude, let's hit that bus." Dean slung an arm around Castiel's shoulder, renewing Castiel's low-simmering arousal at the thought of Dean's strong, naked body against his own. He really shouldn't think like that about a man who had no interest in men. It would only lead to frustration and Castiel had other things to do than to lust after Dean Winchester. Only his libido and his id and his dick... everything that Castiel usually had under control were rebelling, deciding that Dean Winchester was _it_.

\- 0 -

"Dude, left side's mine!" Dean stepped out of the diminutive adjoining bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel. His hair was wet and a few drops trickled down his neck, over his chest. It was a very nice chest, Castiel had to admit. It had looked nice under a tight black t-shirt, and it looked nice now, naked and glistening with water. Although _nice_ was an understatement, like saying that Alaska was slightly chilly in the winter, or that the Pacific Ocean was a bit wet.

Dean Winchester was scorching. 

And Castiel couldn't help it. 

He stared. Again.

"What?" Castiel croaked, sure he sounded like a fool. "Side? The floor doesn't have..."

Luckily Dean was busy finding his pajama pants, and Castiel shuffled onto the other side of the bed, not caring whether he were to sleep left or right, but mostly whether he was able to sleep at all. 

"It was a joke, Cas. And you're not sleeping on the floor." Dean pulled on his pajamas and hung the towel over the door to the bathroom. A whiff of soap and minty toothpaste reached Castiel. "I don't care what side I get as long as you don't hog the covers."

"Oh." Castiel could feel his cheeks heat up. "Gabriel says I'm too literal. I assume he is right."

"Ya' think?" Dean rolled his eyes. "As I said, I don't care where I sleep, as long as I don't have to sleep on the floor," he said, pulling at the comforter. "I checked. Gabriel is occupying all the bunk beds. Or has people occupying them. It's here or the tents. And me and eleven snoring, farting men... not gonna happen. You don't snore, do you?" Without waiting for the reply, Dean slid under the covers, making the mattress dip. Castiel froze and moved as far towards the edge of the bed as he could. 

"That's not going to be very comfortable. You're going to fall out." Dean said. "Stop being a baby; I have no designs on your virtue."

Unfortunately. Castiel was going to _end_ Gabriel for this. "I'm just not used to sleeping with... next to somebody. Out there, yes," Cas nodded in the direction of the bunk beds, "but that's different."

"Relax, dude. We need some sleep, and unless we go back to my apartment, this is the best place to get it." Dean bounced on the mattress. "Best bed ever."

Castiel's eyes widened at the thought of Dean going home to discover the construction work that was going on in his apartment. He'd be surprised, all right, seeing that his apartment currently had no roof, kitchen or bathroom, and that all his salvageable furniture was stored in a container in the street. There was no way that Dean could be allowed near that place. "No, please." Cas forced himself to relax into the exact center of the space that was his side of the bed. "We don't have time. We need to get up at six."

"Exactly. So go to sleep."

"Yes, thank you, Dean. At your service. Anything else?" Castiel growled and pulled the comforter over his head. Lord, it was going to be a long night. 

"I'll let you know when I've thought of something," Dean growled back, laughter bubbling just beneath the surface. "Sleep tight, baby."

Castiel merely sighed loudly and closed his eyes. 

Sleep didn't come easy. Dean's presence in the narrow bed was even more disturbing than Castiel had thought it would be. Dean lay warm and half naked less than a foot away, and Castiel couldn't say whether it was the foreign situation or merely Dean's warmth and magnetism that made him uncomfortably hot. Castiel didn't do it like this — he didn't just fall for a man he'd seen on a TV screen a few times and in person for less than twenty-four hours. He shouldn't feel like this, all riled up and insecure and needy, all at the same time. It wasn't that Castiel lacked offers; there were groupies galore, even for a show like The House Angel. No, he really didn't do it like this. He was neither inexperienced, nor in need of a lover. Sure, he'd had a a few encounters with men: lovers, one-night stands, a quick release in a seedy bar, hidden in the dark. He wasn't complaining. Only he'd never been so tuned in on someone. It was as if Dean was unfolding himself, revealing more interesting aspects, more endearing traits every time they spoke, all the time encasing Castiel in his brilliance, making it impossible to resist the allure. 

But Dean wasn't gay and Castiel was pretending that he wasn't interested, so why did he bother at all? He'd never in his life hit on a straight man, and he had no intentions of starting now.

Castiel pulled the pillow into his arms, wrapping himself around it as not to give in and move the short distance towards Dean and defeat.

\- 0 -

When Castiel woke up it the gray daylight was peeking through the curtains, a thin-fingered ray of light brushing over the bed and over Dean's sleeping shape. Castiel stretched languidly, careful not to move too much. He didn't want to wake Dean. Despite everything, they needed all the sleep they could get before another long and hard day at the lot began. Slowly Castiel rolled over, leaning on his elbow as he looked at Dean. He looked so peaceful, the tense lines of stress and poverty smoothed by sleep. Dean breathed evenly, deeply, as if he was carried away into a dreamscape, a pleasant dream that made him smile a little as he slept on.

Castiel couldn't stop himself from staring at Dean. He was beautiful. A litter of freckles on tanned skin. Long lashes. The lips. Castiel's hand twitched underneath the covers, a movement that Castiel had no control over, as if his body knew better than his mind what he needed. 

One touch. God, one touch! A finger sliding over velvet lips, across flawless skin, that was all he wanted. 

Castiel let out an annoyed sound, angry at himself, angry at the unruly feelings that decided to bolt and run like spring-crazy colts on a meadow. He knew he shouldn't attempt even the slightest touch, but he wanted it so badly. Careful, as not to wake him up, Castiel cupped his hand around Dean's cheek ever so gently. 

Dean's eyelashes fluttered. Castiel strangled a panic-filled groan before it left his throat, and Dean opened his eyes, sleepy and heavy. 

"Hey baby." Dean's voice was deep and sleep-gruff and softer than both velvet and silk and puppy-ears and everything sweet and fluffy. Still drowsy and probably without wanting to, Dean smiled and turned his face into the touch.

"Don't attempt that kind of familiarity with me," Castiel gasped, yanking his hand away as if Dean's cheek was as hot as the burning hell that Castiel surely would be destined for, touching another man inappropriately in his sleep. "I didn't mean to—" He wanted to get up, to flee from the awkward situation, from the inevitability of it. Castiel was sure that Dean knew now — without any doubt — that Castiel was nothing by a pretender when he insisted that he wasn't interested. 

"This wasn't supposed to happen," Castiel thought, immediately realizing that he'd said the words aloud. 

Dean shrugged off sleep like a cloak in one fluent, perfect move and sat up, grabbing Castiel's arm before he could get away. "No. You're not getting off that easily. And since we speak of familiarity" Dean's touched the spot where Castiel's hand had lain seconds earlier. "What was that about?"

"Nothing. Let go, Dean." Castiel felt panic rise like wildfire burning in his veins. "Please?"

Dean's eyes were wide and awake and sharp and so was the flicker of a smile that came and went as quickly as a sudden sunbeam during rain. "I like it when you beg, baby." 

No. Oh, please, no! 

"Dean, you can't—" Had Dean's teeth always been that white and pointy? Castiel let out a shuddering breath, gasping for the oxygen that had left the room. "Don't call me—"

"Cas? Sweetheart? Baby?" Dean was looking positively evil. He moved closer, pulling at Castiel's arm. "Darling? Honey?"

"That." Castiel shook his head, surrendering to Dean's strength, the steely hold on his arm. "All of it. Don't tease me! I apologized."

"No you didn't, and I thought you said you weren't interested, honey bunch? How can I tease you into blushing so sweetly if I don't matter to you?" 

Too close. Dean was far too close and Castiel's defenses were crumbling. "I never said you didn't matter. How could you not?" Cas was getting desperate. "And what's the matter with you? Are you on... something?"

"So you do like me?"

Dean's smile was demonic.

"Of course I like you. If you had been a unlikeable person we would not have chosen you and Sam for the show." Castiel grabbed the life-line, the narrow escape route that the question and gave him. "You are very nice, Dean Winchester, that is why we... Professionally, I have to—" Castiel tried to make his brain work, but half a second's pause was enough to let Dean take over.

"Nice enough to stare at while I sleep?" Dean smiled again, and it did nothing to ease the butterflies in Castiel's stomach. "Nice enough to make you blush and stutter and fidget?"

Castiel broke. It was a dam of emotions and tension that crumbled and he was caught up in his desperation and shame. "Yes! Yes! Nice enough to stare at because you are so damned beautiful and please, please, stop teasing me!" Castiel wanted to hide under the comforter and never come out. It was unfair. Dean was straight, he wasn't into men, any man, and how were they supposed to work together for a week, knowing that Castiel wanted more than it would be professionally sound to want? Shaking, Castiel looked up, meeting Dean's curious eyes. "Are you pleased now that you made me admit it?" he growled. "I'm sorry, and can we just not do this? It's a week, and then you never have to see me again. I promise I won't... I'll sleep in the tents."

"Yeah, I'm pleased," Dean said casually, pursing his mouth. "Never thought I'd be so happy to find out that you are nothing but a lying ass."

"I'll ask Gabriel to take over. If you'd prefer not to—"

"You are not sleeping in the tents. And I am not working with Gabriel. I'm working with _you_ , so get over it."

"But—" Castiel frowned, looking up at Dean again, understanding nothing. Get over what? Get over being gay? Get over being attracted to someone who couldn't reciprocate? Get over being teased with his preferences? Get over having it all thrust into his face, mashed down his throat? "But why?"

"I'll let you know when I know." Dean finally let go of Castiel's arm, sliding his fingers languidly over Castiel's wrist as he pulled back. 

Castiel rubbed the spot where Dean's fingers had left a slight bruise. Castiel often felt clueless, but this was a new low. Or high. Depending on how one looked at it. No matter what, it was bad.

\- 0 -

The entire crew was busy eating and gulping down some coffee before they started working again. Castiel was quiet, more so than usual, and it earned him a suspicious look from Gabriel. "You okay, bro?" Gabriel whispered when he followed Dean down the short stairs from the bus. Castiel hesitated only when Gabriel's hand on his shoulder held him back.

"I am perfectly fine, Gabriel." Castiel's nostrils flared angrily. He sent Dean a look, turning to glare at Gabriel, keeping his voice low. "Although I could have done without your meddling. It is not fair to Dean," he whispered through gritted teeth. "I'm supposed to work with him for a week, and you pull this shit on him?"

Looking taken aback for a moment, Gabriel merely laughed. "Suck it up, Cas. Go with the flow. Everything will be all right."

"Even your tendency to express yourself in pointless clichés? I doubt it."

"Don't you trust me, Cassie?"

"Do I appear particularly foolish to you?"

"No more than usual."

"Then you should know the answer to that, _bro_ ," Cas said acerbically. "And leave us alone, or I'll mess up your new kitchen on purpose."

"Cas, you wouldn't!" Gabriel made the most pathetic puppy-eyes and Castiel was very close to giving in and forgive his brother. 

Then Dean coughed lightly, reminding Castiel about the very, very awkward morning and the very, very awkward day he was going to have in the company of the oldest Winchester. Abandoning his very serious expression, Castiel made a tense smile. "Then stop harassing Dean and me." He held up his hand. "No, you _know_ what you're doing and neither Dean, nor I find it amusing."

"I wouldn't say that—" Dean chipped in.

Castiel whipped around, balancing on the narrow stairs as he pointed at Dean. "You stay out of this. You are just as bad as he is, taking advantage of the situation to mock me. I assure you that I do not find it funny."

Dean made an exact copy of the expression that Gabriel had made. Somehow it was actually possible for Dean to look like a neglected puppy.

"No," Castiel said curtly, his fingers wound so tightly and angrily around the steel banister that it creaked in its mountings. "Just no." Castiel decided to ignore the two idiots and he strode down the remaining steps, past Dean and back into the half-finished house. 

He entertained himself for a few hours, vengefully painting the kitchen walls a nice dusty green, occasionally making sure a brush hair or a dust bunny was visible in the drying paint. It'd drive Gabriel mad, and he'd be repainting the room before he was a week into the relationship with Sam. Castiel assumed that Gabriel would have his way with the poor, innocent boy no matter what. Castiel didn't feel particularly petty — Gabriel had it coming. Caught up in ruining his own work, Castiel hadn't even begun to consider how he'd deal with Dean. He immersed himself in the slow application of paint, in the noise and the hustle of the builders who worked around him.

An electrician was putting up lights and the house was actually beginning to look like a house. It wasn't big, but enough for two, a dog and maybe a kid, in time. It was a nice set-up, and if Sam liked the house as much as he apparently liked Gabriel, the two would be living together before the end of the year, Castiel decided. No, Sam didn't stand a chance.

Castiel stopped mid-stroke. Sam didn't stand a chance and neither did he. Because it hadn't occurred to him that if Sam and Gabriel became lovers, he'd never be free of Dean Winchester. 

There was no way around it: he had to do something, anything, about the situation. He knew he'd been stupid and reckless, touching Dean like he'd done this morning. But Dean... Dean was acting so strangely, mocking him and calling him stupid names and acting like a bully on top of it. Castiel didn't understand. 

Yes, he had to do something, and fast. If Dean was insisting on playing this odd flirty version of bullying the gay guy, Castiel would give him a run for his money. He could reciprocate, make Dean taste his own medicine, then maybe he'd back off. Determined, Castiel turned around, ready to go take the fight into Dean's camp. He didn't get any further, because he stepped right into six feet of muscular, sweat-smelling Dean. He gasped and took a step back.

"Hello, sweetheart." 

Yes, of course the core of the problem would show up in all his green-eyed, masculine glory right at the moment when Castiel was about to take action. 

"I've got nothing you want," Castiel snapped, forgetting that he'd made a plan. "I thought I made that clear? And before you start, I understood the _I'm not gay._ "

"Whoa, Cas!" Dean held out an arm, preventing Castiel's escape. "Come on, baby, don't be angry with me."

Ignoring the name-calling, Castiel stopped. It was that or walking into Dean's embrace. "You do understand what gay means, I take it? And you swore to me that you had no problems working with me, remember?"

"Yes."

Dean stepped closer and Castiel had to close his eyes for a second, as not to reveal how attractive he found Dean. Well, if the staring at him in bed and admitting that he found Dean beautiful hadn't given it away entirely. 

"Yes? That's it?"

"Yes. And I don't. Have a problem, I mean. The problem, man, is yours. I'm not the one trying to run away."

"And I'm not the one calling a man I'm not interested in for sweetheart. Or baby."

"If you want, feel free to-"

"Don't, Dean." Enough was enough. Castiel dodged Dean's arm and fled.

This time Castiel took to hiding in the garden. Like the rest, the garden was a work in progress and Castiel looked around to find a peaceful spot, to no avail. Too many people, too much heavy machinery in use.

The hellhound came running to join him, looking at him curiously as he hurried towards the bus. "And where's your master now?" Castiel asked it, expecting no answer. "I'm going to have a word with him about encouraging Dean, I tell you." The hellhound didn't seem to care, but threw itself on the ground, belly up, making Castiel trip. "Don't know who's worse, you or Gabriel," Castiel growled and picked up the critter. The dog wiggled and wagged its tail as he unlocked the door to the bus. "I'm not feeding you," Castiel said. "Sit down and be quiet; I have an important and — if I am to say so — very unpleasant phone call to make. But I have to, you see. We are ruining the show if it doesn't stop. Dean needs to stop. Or think of something else."

Pulling out his phone, Castiel searched his contacts until he found the one he was looking for. He scratched the hellhound behind the ear. It was relaxing. He waited until the phone connected. When the familiar voice sounded in the other end of the line, Castiel sighed in relief.

"Anna? It's Castiel. I have a favor to ask."


	7. Cupid Lost His Arrows

Gabriel sat down on the toilet's closed lid with a sigh. He checked that the door was locked before he flipped open the iPad, finger hovering over the Skype icon. He sighed again, flipping the cover back and put the tablet down on the half finished bathroom's gigantic granite sink. 

"Fuck, what a mess," Gabriel groaned and closed his eyes. Christ, he needed half an hour of peace and quiet, and at least ten minutes online with Sam. He had problems, problems that needed solving immediately. Unless he'd like to have Castiel's lack of social skills and Dean Winchester's attempt at staying in the closet blow the entire episode to kingdom come. 

Not on his watch, not on his show. Nothing or nobody was going to rain on, piss on or otherwise moisturize his bloody parade.

Unfortunately he had provided the mess himself — he was willing to admit that. All he had wanted was Cas to be happy, and he'd acted rashly, so certain that Cas and Dean were a bit more aware of their own feelings, the obvious attraction between them. Gabriel was still sure it had been a done deal. A little subtle encouragement and some time Castiel would stop being blind and Dean would cease being locked up in Narnia. God, had he been wrong! 

"Damage control first," Gabriel said aloud. He should have known that pressure only made Cas more stubborn than a determined mule. Now he had a potential disaster on his hands, and he needed to make it go away, needed to mend what he had broken. 

Contrary to common belief, Gabriel ran his show with a firm hand. Mostly he let Kali be the one who bossed people around; she was amazingly good at it. Common belief also had it pinned down that Gabriel was crazy and messy and clueless. Nothing could be more wrong. Okay, so Gabriel liked that people underestimated him, liked that they didn't know how determined and systematic he could be when he wanted to be determined and systematic. He liked pulling the strings behind the scenes, leaving people to their skewed perception of him. On the bottom line: Gabriel only stepped in if something threatened the show that had been the love of his life until the moment he met Sam. _Nothing_ was allowed to mess with Gabriel's work and with the show.

Only this time it wasn't about the show. It was about Cas's happiness, about making Dean understand that Cas was perfect for him. About making a family for Sam. And no show, nothing in the universe, was more important than the happiness and love of his beloved Sam and their stupid, foolish, annoying brothers. For once the show came in second.

"Idiots," Gabriel told his own image in the mirror. "Why the fuck can't they just kiss and get it over with?"

It should have been so easy. Okay, admittedly his initial attempt at helping Castiel to a good man might have been a bit crude and insensitive. He really should have known better. But it should have been _easy_ , dammit!

At least Cas's and Dean's forced cohabitation in Gabriel's bedroom had Dean calling Cas all sorts of stupid nonsensical fluffy names. Dean's bullying was definitely pulling pigtails, not that Cas had any to pull. Gabriel was very, very confident that it was Dean's clumsy and inexperienced way of telling Cas that he liked him. Maybe Dean hadn't truly realized the exact meaning of those feelings himself. However, Dean had yet to understand that he was clinging desperately to the very loose handle of a closet, and that he'd slip sooner or later. Sooner, Gabriel was sure, or he'd happily pry Dean's fingers open, forcing him to let go of said handle if necessary. Thank God the boy wasn't homophobic, he was merely blind.

Castiel was hot, he was smart, he was someone who Dean Winchester should be willing to die for. Gabriel was sure he could make it happen. Not the dying, of course, that'd defy the entire idea of getting a boyfriend for Castiel. Dean needed to understand that he was falling in love with Cas, and Cas needed to see that Dean Winchester was made for him. 

Dean and Cas needed to get with the program, and for that they needed help. Proper help.

More determined this time, Gabriel grabbed the iPad and connected to Skype.

It took a little before Sam answered. "'ullo," he groaned, his greeting muffled and tired. 

The screen showed something that might have been Sam's hair and a bit of a pillow. At least it looked very much like the 1000-thread Sferra linen that Gabriel had stocked up on for the small Richmond apartment.

"Tired, Samsquatch?" Gabriel laughed as the screen turned into a close up on the nice dark brown border of the Sferra covers. 

The rustle of sheets and the sound of fluffed pillows reached him. "I hate you," Sam said and turned his own tablet so that he was actually visible. "And thanks for the iPad. I think. If you swear not to wake me up at this-"

There was a pause as Sam was checking something out to his left. "It's eleven! How did I sleep 'til eleven?" Sam said, the slight desperation choked by a yawn. Man, this bed..."

"I know. The best money can buy." Gabriel chuckled. Sam was adorable. "How did it go? Berkeley?"

Sam smiled a sleepy smile, wide and lazy and dimpled, and Gabriel fell even more in love. 

"I owe you... I don't know how I can ever thank you enough. It's... Cinderella and Aladdin and ya' know, every fairy tale known to man except The Little Mermaid. I still have to try out the shower, so I might reconsider. If you guarantee that I don't turn to foam at the light of dawn."

"Dawn was five hours ago, Sammy. You didn't get a prince, though. You'll have to make do with me." Gabriel smirked. "And I can come up with a few ways that you could show your gratitude. Nothing says thank you like a blow job and a weekend in bed."

"Gabriel!" Sam looked scandalized for a second, before he laughed, his eyes sparkling. "We haven't even been on our first date."

"I know. A standard _thank you_ will do nicely, unfortunately. But you're gorgeous, so don't blame a man for a bit of wishful thinking. Can't help it, Sammy. I'd love to spend time with you. Not necessarily in bed. Have dinner. Movies. Take it one step at a time, if you want slow."

Sam's eyes softened. "And if I want the same? I mean... if I want to be with you?"

"Not complaining," Gabriel said. "I'm hot and charming, so no one's going to blame you for having taste," he added perkily. Then he stopped breathing because his heart seemed to have stopped too, a direct consequence of Sam's admission. 

Gabriel could feel his usual confidence slide. He rubbed his face with a hand that might or might not have been shaking a little. "If you really want to be with me, then I have everything I'd ever want," Gabriel said softly, wishing that Sam was here with him, next to him so that he could kiss him and make this damned huge declaration of love with Sam in his arms. "It might not be conventional, but—" Gabriel paused. Did it really matter that they'd only seen each other outside the Internet for half an hour? Gabriel _knew_ Sam by now, had seen him at his worst, and at his best.

"I'm in love with you," Gabriel said, not thinking for a second longer about proper time and place. He needed to say it. 

"You're hiding in a frigging toilet, and that's where you decide to inform me of your undying love?" Sam shook his head before he burst into laughter. it took a while before he was coherent again. "Romance is so dead."

Sam paused, looking at Gabriel with a serious expression. It took only a moment before he spoke again, but for Gabriel it seemed like hours. Sam's reply mattered. Sam mattered. What Sam wanted mattered.

"I have never in my life met anyone like you," Sam finally said, wiping away a few tears with the backside of his hand. "And I'm pretty sure you're one of a kind."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Gabriel pressed his lips together nervously. He didn't like this, that Sam had the upper hand. Or maybe that was precisely what he liked about Sam. Sam wasn't star-struck or inferior. Sam was strong. Yeah, Gabriel liked it.

"Good, I guess," Sam said. "When can you get me on a plane back to Kansas? I mean, I can do the shopping in Lawrence; we have stores, too, I'll have you know." He sent Gabriel another wide smile, one that made Gabriel melt entirely.

"Tomorrow? I need the camera crew to get a bit of location footage from the apartment, other than what they shot at Berkeley. Good enough?"

"Yeah. I mean..." Sam stopped speaking, and sat there, looking at Gabriel. "There are things I'd rather tell you in person," he finally said. "But get me there. I miss you, Gabriel. I want—"

"Me too." Gabriel was sure he looked like a lovesick loon to Sam, but that was fine. He was one, and he wanted Sam to know. "I'll get right on to it. There is something I need your help with first, though. Before I fuck things up entirely."

"Yeah? I mean, that's surprising. You fucking things up. What's wrong?"

"It's Cas."

"Is he all right?" Sam asked, concerned.

"Cas _and_ Dean, to be precise."

"And Dean?" Sam looked curious, but not surprised. "Did he remember to close the door to the closet after he left it? We can't have people walking in there by accident," Sam said. 

"What?" Now it was Gabriel's turn to understand all of absolutely nothing. "Dean—"

"Dean has chased girls for so long that he's forgotten that love actually exists. He likes girls, true. He had all of six months with one once. Lisa. She would have been so good for Dean. He liked her. _Liked_."

"What are you saying? That he's bi? I mean, he is. Obviously. The way he's teasing Cas... You wouldn't believe it if you saw how they're carrying on. It's worse than kindergarten. Except for the moon-eyes and the flirting and the way Cas looks like a puppy when Dean teases him, first calling him sweetheart, then telling him that he's straight, and then Cas goes on, telling Dean he's not interested. Romance unfolding right before our eyes, I tell you." Gabriel had seen that kind of behavior before. Dean was a bit like he'd been before he admitted to himself and to everybody who cared to listen that it was fine to like men. Gabriel had teased his first lover like that, making a fool of himself and of the guy he'd been in love with. Until he'd gotten his shit together and manned up.

"You're only teasing the ones you like that much, "Sam agreed. "Dean is really bad with emotions. Never talks about what he feels, never admits it. He gets all gruff and grumpy and awkward." Sam nodded. "He really called Castiel sweetheart?"

"He did. He's Dean, twelve years old, and Cas is all angry and confused and hurt. And twelve. He thinks Dean is bullying him, which he does. Oh, and Cas hates me. He thinks I'm a bully as well. I tried to steer them in the right direction. With a sledgehammer. Metaphorically speaking. We have real sledgehammers on the site, if needed." Gabriel smiled apologetically, to no avail. 

"Well done, both of you." Sam looked tired. "How is it possible that you of all people can be such a bumbling idiot? With Dean it's to be expected, so he's excused. Subtle isn't going to work now. Someone— that'd be you— needs to go remind Dean gently that he's been crushing on Dr Sexy for years, and maybe also of that time when he was pining for Jeffrey Dean Morgan for months, pretending that the images from J.D.'s _Flaunt_ photo shoot ended up on his laptop by accident. J.D. is handsome, that I have to admit, but Dean was quite... yeah."

"You think it'd help? If I went and talked to Dean?"

"Dunno... But someone needs to tell him that he should open his eyes and his mouth and stop being an idiot? Probably not, but at least he should tone it down if he makes Castiel uncomfortable."

"You could tell him. Maybe he'd listen to you?"

Sam's outburst of laughter had a bitter tinge to it, and Gabriel decided that there was some back story here that he might never know about. "Maybe," Sam finally agreed. "At least he's reacting to Castiel with real emotions—" Sam paused. "—the emotions of an immature teenager, granted. He's not pretending that nothing has happened at all. If he's that far out of the closet, chances are that he might listen to you. Since you've decided to save me I suppose there is little you can do wrong, in Dean's opinion." 

"And if he denies everything and asks me to fuck off and mind my own business?" Gabriel would do anything it took as long as it got Cas closer to getting the boyfriend he needed. "Not to sound like a total jerk, but we need to get them to work together for the remainder of the week. The surly fools aren't making for very good TV. More importantly, Dean is hurting my brother with his stupidity. They're going so much more fun when they admit that they want each other. And on TV? Oooh! Chemistry, baby!" 

Sam didn't look as if he found Gabriel especially callous, thinking of the show. "Sometimes you and Dean are a bit too similar," he told Gabriel. "You're acting like a jerk, trying to, at least, and yet you're doing this? One attempt at matchmaking per show isn't enough? Oh, Gabriel, you can pretend all you like, but you're a romantic at heart."

Gabriel didn't care to contradict Sam. He wasn't Cupid, but he liked a happy end as much as the next guy. "The episode is going to be legendary."

"Right. Now go make my ignorant brother open his eyes. I like Cas. He's gonna be good for Dean."

"If you could see how they look at each other. When they're not fighting, that is... Oh, boy."

"Can't wait to see Dean like that. And you... go away," Sam demanded. "Get me back to Lawrence as fast as possible." He paused. "It was easier when I hadn't met you in person. Now I miss you like crazy."

"Yeah," Gabriel said, sending Sam a look of desperate longing before he disconnected. "I know how you feel."

Staring at the black screen, Gabriel tried to decide how to go on. He had to talk to Castiel and teach him elementary social skills so that he could handle attraction. Not that Gabriel was the person to teach _Falling in Love With a Winchester 101_ , but at least he'd come reasonably close to having an actual boyfriend, and that without making a total fool of himself. He could do it. It was nothing. Giving Dean Winchester The Talk? Apologizing to Cas? Not a problem at all. Or embarrassing.

Oh, well. There were worse things. Maybe.

\- 0 -

Castiel spent the rest of the day in a confused stupor, using far too much energy on avoidance, working in the north corner of the house when Dean was in the southern. Gabriel was loud, so he was easy enough to avoid. Castiel wasn't shying away from conflict, that wasn't it; he merely needed time away from the object of his infatuation and from his annoying big brother who didn't get it at all. Castiel had had it with rhino-stubborn guys and their bulldozer charm.

Working with one of the camera crews, Castiel managed to do interviews with the builders who worked on the roof, with some of Sam's friends from town, and with Bobby who'd showed up, driving a car that he was trying to fix as a gift for Sam, an old Dodge that looked exactly as if one would want to get the hell out of it, and fast. Castiel was partial to cars that worked in general, and Dodges in particular. The Dodge, Bobby had brought might be running, but it was debatable whether it would be for very long.

Unfortunately, doing the work he was paid for wasn't enough of a distraction for Castiel. One brief look at Dean as he passed by, carrying a load of floorboards was enough to make Castiel worry again. 

They were in the middle of shooting their final episode, and if there was anything Castiel didn't want, it was to air his dirty laundry where it could be picked up by the audience. Viewers were amazingly perceptive. He had to get things under control, and as long as Dean and Gabriel had teamed up, Castiel knew he was in trouble. Okay, so he'd called in a favor from Anna; perhaps it was all he needed to provide the distraction he needed. At least it would give Dean something else to think about. Sighing, Castiel downed a Coke and went to find Gabriel. He needed time alone, away from the lot. Just until tomorrow. Tomorrow things would be better.

Gabriel was juggling a dozen carpenters, administrative work, a camera crew, Kali and a handful of disgustingly greasy M&Ms, all at the same time. He smiled as Castiel approached them, unfazed by the chaos that he'd created. "Cassie?" Gabriel tried the puppy-eyes. They didn't work. 

"My first name is Castiel. You should be the first to know, since you are to blame for it." Castiel snorted. "Not Cas, not sweetheart, not dude. Castiel."

"Not ready to forgive me just yet, Cassi- _Castiel_?" Looking at Kali, Gabriel asked her, "could you take over a minute, dar— Kali?"

It earned him a well-deserved glare, but Kali nodded. She was a sensible person and a better producer than Gabriel would ever be; she'd never have allowed things to go south like they had today. Sometimes Castiel wished that Kali had been in charge. She was consistent. Castiel knew he was being unfair, Gabriel was damned good at what he did. Just not today.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Wrapping his arm around Castiel's waist, Gabriel pulled Castiel with him, and he could do nothing but to follow. Unless he'd cause a scene, and that was exactly what Castiel was trying to avoid. "I shouldn't have egged him on. Dean. Or... you know, participated in the teasing," Gabriel said, earning himself a small smile from Castiel. "You all right, kiddo? I can go talk to him if you like?"

Cas was livid. "No! Please. I'll deal with this myself; Stay out of it, Gabriel."

"So you're going to talk to him? Today? Like adults?"

"Tomorrow. I promise. I need to get away... just until tomorrow morning. I'm ahead of schedule with the interviews; it won't create any delays. I'll go check on things over at Dean's apartment. I'm staying there tonight. I'll bring a sleeping bag. They're done with the bathroom and the two rooms upstairs, so it's no trouble; I can—"

"Whoa, breathe, Cassie." Patting Castiel on the back, Gabriel looked a bit worried. "Sure you're okay?"

Was he sure he was okay? No. Not when the world was crumbling and his heart was torn into little pieces every time Dean smiled or used an endearment or looked at him as if he was the only person in the world. Not when Dean did all that to him. "No. I'm not. I think I'm in love and I am not okay. It feels like the flu, it's more painful than open heart surgery and I just want it to be _over_." It hurt because nothing of it meant anything to Dean. His default setting was to flirt with any sentient being alive. Castiel's shoulders fell and he leaned into Gabriel. He was there when it mattered, so Castiel could forgive him.

Gabriel stroked Castiel's back calmly. "Listen to me, Cas! If you know what's good for you, you are going nowhere. You are going back into that trailer and you stay in my room, with Dean." 

There was such persistence in the way that Gabriel insisted that Castiel couldn't just dismiss it as one of Gabriel's mad ideas. "No. I can't, Gabriel" Castiel really _couldn't_. He couldn't stand Dean's teasing and the outright rejection which would inevitably follow if Castiel admitted again that he liked Dean. It was easier to just let it pass, wait for the week to be over, then go to lick his wounds, forgetting everything about Dean Winchester. Except it wasn't an option. Because of Sam and Gabriel. 

"Sam?" Castiel asked, wanting to know. Also he wanted a change of subject. "Are you... is he..."

"Yes. He said yes to me. He wants to go to dinner." Gabriel smiled, the worried expression smoothed into a gentle smile, as if Gabriel remembered something very pleasant. "I spoke to him earlier. Did I mention I love Skype? He wanted to come back here. Tomorrow. As in I-need-you-to-be-mine-right-the-fuck-now' back. And then he said he wanted to be mine. And I told him I'm in love with him." Gabriel sighed and his smile competed for a moment with the sun.

Castiel snorted. "Neither of you are subtle. Should I explain the meaning of the word to you, or are you able to grasp the concept of the idea when used in its proper context?"

"Yes. And nope. And I said yes, and he said I'd better get him a flight back asap, and that he missed me. And I want to do things to him that I won't mention to my innocent little brother." 

"You are not exactly normal, are you?" Castiel felt a sting of jealousy. It was so easy for Gabriel. Chat a guy up on the Internet, wait for him to fall in love, indicate in a crude way that he'd like to spend his life with him, and all they needed was the actual rings and someone to read them the marriage ritual of choice. That and then to actually have interaction with Sam that didn't exist exclusively in the binary.

"I hope not." Gabriel laughed. "Neither are you, normal I mean, and Dean better understand how damned special you are. And you should trust those baby-blues of yours to do the work."

"Work?" Confused as to what Gabriel meant, Castiel stared at him. 

"Those." Gabriel pointed with two fingers, indicating Castiel's eyes. "A few more days of looking at Dean the way you look at him, and he's done for."

"He's not gay, Gabriel, and I'm not interested. I have told him so repeatedly."

"Mm-hm."

"He's been teasing me relentlessly; he's still calling me names. When I'm not hiding from him."

"You are so cute when you're being ignorant. What names are those, again?" Gabriel teased.

Blushing, Castiel stuttered it out. "Baby, sweetheart. Sugar pie. That sort of names."

"Now that we're talking about concepts and ideas, Cassie... You do know the difference between name-calling and pet names?"

Castiel frowned, understanding nothing. Dean called him names. It was name-calling. He didn't see the difference, it just didn't matter when those horrible endearments were used to make fun of him.

"You think Dean does it to annoy you? God, the two of you! He's got the emotional maturity of a toddler, and you are as blind as an earthworm. The dude's falling for you, kiddo! Has fallen, according to Sam."

Shaking his head in denial, Castiel stared at Gabriel in surprise. "But he's not gay!"

"Christ, the stupidity. Do you want me to spell it out for you, my darling little brother? He is onto you. He looks at you as if you were the only man in the world, and now that you're ignoring him so cruelly he's been moping all day. He even snapped at me when I pointed out to him that he should get his shit together earlier when I caught him hiding in the second floor bathroom."

"Yes, Gabriel. I want you to spell it out. Of course Dean would be in a bad mood. We are not at the best of terms. We had a fight."

Gabriel sighed deeply and threw his hands up. "You are abundantly dense, Cas. I repeat: _Dean. Is. Onto. You_. He wouldn't tease you like he has done if he wasn't interested. He might not have realized it fully yet; hence the awkward, immature approach to, you know... feelings. And being hot and bothered every time he stares at your admittedly nice ass. He's being cruel because he likes you and he doesn't know how to tell you. Or to deal with it, since you refused him already. No, I heard you because you are as bad is he is! _Oh, I'm in love with Dean, oh, I'm not interested_. How do you think that is reassuring for Dean? No, don't try to deny it." 

Castiel didn't believe it. He shook his head once more. Gabriel couldn't be right. Dean was straight — he'd said so. 

Just like Castiel had said that he wasn't interested. Oh. 

_Oh_.

Castiel sighed. He really, _really_ needed to hone his social skills. 

"So the light is on now, bro?" Gabriel smirked. "Good thing, because, damn some awkward family moments we'd have otherwise, you and me and Sammy, when Dean shows up for Sunday dinner, staring at you with those hurt doggie-eyes, much like a kicked cocker spaniel."

Yes. The lights were on, as Gabriel had put it. And they were putting the spotlight on how immensely blind Castiel had been. The only problem now was that he had to reverse the damage he'd done during the day, trying to escape Dean. He shouldn't have asked Anna for that favor. He shouldn't. "If we assume that you are right-"

"I'm always right. Dean is bi-, trust me."

"Aha." Castiel frowned. He knew Gabriel would never lie to him, not about something like that. Still it was hard to believe. "And how do you know?"

"I look at him looking at you. And Sam told me that he thinks so too."

Castiel blinked. Sam thought so? "If we assume you are right, I do have some damage control to attend to. I'm going to Dean's place, still. For tonight. I don't think I can... I do not want to sleep next to him, not until I know what to do." If Gabriel was right, then everything had changed. Everything. 

Castiel's surrender made Gabriel cooperate. "Fine. But promise me you'll speak to Dean tomorrow. I can only take so much moping from the two of you."

There was only so much moping that Castiel could take, too. Unfortunately he knew already that the event he had planned for tomorrow would be enough to make him mope for a month.


	8. Moments of Truth

A good night's sleep had improved Castiel's mood considerably. He was thinking more clearly, although two cups of delicious coffee and a croissant on the side had helped too. Being away from the lot, and more importantly, being away from Dean had given Castiel the break he'd needed. He had been blinded by his infatuation with Dean Winchester. Castiel hadn't truly _seen_ Dean. Castiel turned the empty cup in his hands, looking out the window at the red sky and the dawning day, thoughtful.

Gabriel's words had made him open his eyes. Gabriel actually had a point. Dean had behaved irrationally. Nobody in their right mind would behave like Dean had done, not unless they were twelve years old and in love for the first time. The teasing had been extreme, but it had also put Dean out there, revealed in the most immature fashion what Dean felt. He had been joking, but if Gabriel was right, then there had been some truth in it. _Darling, baby, sweetheart_. Castiel smiled at the thought. Maybe he, too, had an confession to make because he had liked Dean's teasing more than he'd hated it. Nobody had ever called Castiel that kind of endearments, and he liked it.

Castiel looked up, mouthing a silent, "Thank you," as the waitress poured him a third cup. Castiel leaned back, staring out into the street, watching the first early cars and people on their way into Lawrence's business district. He really liked the city too. He felt at home here. He liked the people he'd met. He liked Sam, and he liked Dean. He liked Dean a lot. It wasn't so difficult to process. What was more difficult was to decide what to do about it. Castiel had fled Dean's mock advances. Perhaps Gabriel had been right: fleeing hadn't been such a good idea. Now it felt as if the divide between them had widened considerably and Castiel was at a loss of how to bridge it.

He should have asked Gabriel for help much sooner. 

Now the plan he'd made with Anna would do little to accomplish any bridging of gaps. He'd planned to separate himself from Dean and now his brilliant plan was the equivalent of throwing a bomb into the divide, making it explode, instead of a bridge creating an abyss the size of Mariana's Trench. Castiel could call it off, of course, but it would make more problems he would have to solve. And Anna would be angry with him on top of all that. Finally, he'd look like an idiot. He didn't have a problem with that, he did that regularly, only this time it wasn't just Anna. There were other people involved in the plan, people Castiel couldn't afford to alienate. Castiel had a show to protect. His camera crew had scheduled the shots. He couldn't call Anna and ask her to cancel without messing it up for a whole lot of people. 

He'd have to ride it out, do some damage control afterwards. And hope he wouldn't lose Dean in the process.

Castiel frowned, trying again to find a solution that worked. Sure, he couldn't do anything to stop the plans for the show. But he could do something to take Dean out of the equation. Maybe he could do damage _prevention_ instead of damage control.

Now. He had to do it right the fuck now.

He looked at his watch. He had less than five hours. Gulping down the last of the coffee, knew he had to act fast. He slid his fingers through his hair, frustrated. He wasn't _used_ to taking matters in his own hand when it came to love. He could do it when he wanted sex, hitting on someone willing at a gay club. It didn't matter if it was just sex. Still, it didn't happen often and Castiel had little experience with anything but those few loose encounters. He'd never really been worried that he didn't have a boyfriend because he'd been too busy. Now he regretted it a little. He could use that kind of experience now, courting another man. 

Meeting Dean had sparked embers, awakening an urge he didn't think he had. Now he had to stand up for himself, for once getting up and fight for what he wanted, clearing up the misunderstandings he'd created. Castiel wasn't weak, very far from, he was just not used to wanting anything so badly as he wanted Dean Winchester. Castiel knew, too, that he had better strap on his shotgun because he'd already let a wolf into the chicken shack. Luckily the wolf had yet to arrive and when it did, Dean Winchester would be reduced to prey for the wolf. A sting of intense jealousy surged through Castiel's heart.

God, he was in deep. 

But there was still time enough. Maybe.

Castiel rode back to the lot, trying to whip up enough courage to go through the next couple of hours without losing his determination. It was nothing, he told himself. He only had to apologize to Dean, court him, and on top of admit that he had been less than honest when he'd told Dean that he wasn't interested. Shouldn't be impossible. If Castiel had been as cocky as Gabriel, as devious as Meg and as direct as Kali, that was. Then he would've been fine. But he was just an awkward nerd without social skills. He wasn't certain that he, despite his good intentions, was able to do what he'd set out to do.

He parked in the street. He sat for minutes in the rented car, his palms damp against the wheel. The sun was up and the volunteers were arriving. The workers and builders were there, too, with the many volunteers, bleary-eyed and worn out by too much work and too little rest. They weren't used to the intense pace and the heavy workload, not like Castiel and the team. Castiel was searching, eyes wandering from one man to the next, trying to find Dean somewhere in the throng of workers and volunteers. He blew out a stream of air, sighing deeply as he got out of the car. Courage. 

Gabriel was in the kitchen that Castiel and Dean had worked on together. He didn't look up when Castiel entered. "You didn't think I'd see it, did you?" Gabriel picked with a nail at one of the hairs that Castiel so meticulously had mixed with the paint to get back at Gabriel. "Castiel, really?"

Castiel didn't even blush. "You were meddling. Do you wish me to repaint?"

Finally Gabriel gave up scratching at the wall. He didn't look particularly angry. "Yeah, bro. And I want Deano to help you. And while you're at it, give the tabletop more oil. I'd like my kitchen to look perfect."

"And here I thought it was Sam's kitchen." The sound of Dean's gruff voice made Castiel turn so fast he almost pushed Gabriel over. "Morning, guys," Dean said. "So, Cas has decided to be with us again?"

Trying to look as if he hadn't been about to fall over, Castiel straightened up. "I had other plans yesterday." He looked Dean directly in the eye, almost challenging. "Important ones."

"Really, baby?" Dean grinned and it took all Castiel had not to let out a relieved sigh at the sound of the formerly so hated endearment. "Nothing can be more important than me."

"Okay," Gabriel interrupted, "get painting, boys, we're behind." He looked at Dean. "Someone was clumsy enough to stir half a poodle into the nice green paint. Gonna be a bore to get all those hairs off, but you know me: I'd never let any of my participants have such a sloppily made house." Patting on the lid of the olive green paint, Gabriel laughed evilly and ran off, leaving Castiel alone with Dean and a half-finished kitchen entirely full of awkward.

Fighting his natural shyness, Castiel turned and grabbed the paint. At least he had something to do that made it a little less awkward being in Dean's company. Castiel turned, only to bump directly into Dean.

"Whoa there, baby." Dean put his hand on Castiel's waist, preventing him from stepping back. "Let me take that." Dean reached for the paint, his fingers brushing briefly over Castiel's as their hands met. Castiel let go of the bucket as if it had been on fire.

"I'm perfectly able to carry that myself, Dean," Castiel said, reluctant to take back the bucket. "I-" He made the mistake of looking up, into Dean's eyes. Dean smelled of soap and toothpaste.

"You-" Dean breathed, this time at a loss for more annoying names. "Cas?"

Castiel took a step back, again a bit too fast and bumped into the kitchen island. "We need to paint."

"Dude, relax. I'm not coming on to you. I promised to lay off-"

"And since you called me baby only thirty seconds ago, how did that turn out, exactly?" 

It wasn't what Castiel had meant to say. He'd much rather have asked Dean to forget everything that they'd said about laying off so that they could go on to the kissing. But Castiel simply didn't have the courage. Without thinking, he licked his lips, staring at Dean, unable to look away, searching for something, anything, that could tell him whether Dean really was as interested as Gabriel had said.

Obviously mesmerized, Dean sighed. He was so close that Castiel could sense his breath as a warm ghosting over his cheek. "Not too well. I'm sorry."

"Don't." Castiel said it firmly, trying to express with one word all the determination he'd gathered since he decided to act on his feelings for Dean.

"Don't what?" Dean tilted his head to one side, eyebrows curling upwards in an expression of confusion and curiosity. "Are you all right, Cas?"

"Yes. And don't stop," Castiel whispered, his words almost inaudible. "Don't stop. Don't be sorry."

"So you do like me a little?" Dean's smile flashed brightly like the sun on a very clear sky. "Admit it, baby. I'm hot."

"No!" Castiel wasn't going to let Dean go back to being mock charming and mock flirting. He didn't have _time_. "You're far too happy that someone might like you, and you act like a jerk," Castiel said, putting a hand on Dean's chest. "When you've decided not to be so smug about it, then perhaps I might want to tell whether I like you or not." Castiel raised an eyebrow, almost challenging Dean as he slid the hand down Dean's chest, just an inch.

Dean's flirty expression faded and one of deep need replaced it. "Don't tease me, Cas." Dean's eyes were soft and strangely innocent, even Castiel could see that. 

Castiel really was bad at reading people, but that instant he had a sudden epiphany, a flash of enlightenment. 

Gabriel had been right. Gabriel had been right all along. No one in their right mind would look at another man the way Dean stared at him. Not if he wasn't interested. It made Castiel's heart skip, his stomach flutter. It wasn't impossible; Dean wasn't outside his reach. Yes, he was bad at flirting, but Castiel knew he had to act now, right now. He rarely flirted, he didn't like acting so manipulative, but he decided on the spot to do what Gabriel would have done, hoping it would be enough. He licked his lips, looking up at Dean from under heavy lashes.

Dean's widened. For a second it was as if Castiel was allowed a brief look into his soul, all open and vulnerable and _his_. "Cas, please? It's hard enough as it is."

Looking shyly at Dean, Castiel moved his hand further down, ever so slowly, cherishing every inch of Dean's firm chest. "I never intended to make it difficult for you," he said softly, letting his voice drop into a rough purr. "I promise."

"God, Cas-" Dean swallowed hard, "you have no idea what you are doing to me, have you?"

"No." Castiel was honest and he liked that better than being flirty. He truly hadn't known that he had this kind of effect on Dean. He still didn't know for sure how deep Dean's desire ran. "I didn't think that..." He pulled his hand away nervously, his shyness and doubt returning full force. "I think we should paint that wall. Gabriel's going to annoy us until we've got it done. If you wish, we can speak later, in a more suitable place." Castiel knew he was backpedaling, but he would like more privacy than he could get in the kitchen, workers passing by and Gabriel on the loose. It was a terrible excuse, but he was grasping at straws. It was not easy lying to oneself when one knew the truth.

Dean nodded. He looked disappointed. "Later, then. And why is it that the walls need repainting, by the way? They look perfectly good to me. Gabriel is a bit of a perfectionist, isn't he?" 

"I might have... I might have added a few dust bunnies to get back at Gabriel for interfering," Castiel admitted. "And half the hairs from one of the used paint brushes."

Dean held an expression of utter disbelief for a moment. Then he laughed loudly, patting Castiel on the shoulder "Dude! There's more to you than what meets the eye, that's for sure."

The magic between them was broken and gone, and Castiel was torn between relief and regret. "Thank you, Dean."

Dean snorted, trying to stop laughing. "Let's strip that paint and get that damned wall repainted, so we can get outta here." He sent Castiel a charming grin that went all the way down to Castiel's toes and made his entire body shiver. "Right, baby?"

Castiel grabbed a paintbrush, deliberately fluttering his eyelashes at the man he was falling in love with. "Yes, Dean."

God, he was such an idiot. Three hours left and all he'd managed was to take two steps forward and one back. 

At least it was still a step forward.

\- 0 -

Gabriel knew his brother only too well. Something was up. He usually didn't worry about Cas, he was an adult, but this Winchester business had taken its toll. Although Castiel looked as if he'd actually rested, the situation clearly hadn't been resolved. Dean still looked hungry and Cas still looked baffled. Gabriel stopped for a moment, paintbrush in hand, and bit his lip thoughtfully. Then he stared at the wall and the few square feet that still needed a second layer. Yeah, he could take a short break before he snuck out to fetch Sam at the airport.

Quickly he finished painting. The bedroom was going to be fantastic, one of the best Gabriel had ever designed. Deceptively simple. The pale cream walls would be the perfect background for the antique mahogany bed and the transparent Kartell Ghost chairs. Gabriel forbade himself to imagine Sam spread out naked on the bed, on Egyptian sheets, his hair in a dis—

Gabriel shook his head, grabbed a plastic bag and put the paintbrush in it. He wiped his hands in a rag and hurried downstairs. There was no reason to postpone the inevitable. Gabriel was relieved to have Sam's full support, though. It would have been hard enough to ask Dean to stop teasing Cas all the time. Having _The Talk_ with Dean Winchester, asking him to leave the closet he undeniable was uncomfortable with? Not high on Gabriel's to-do list, but it had to be done. For the sake of the show, for Sam's sake, but most of all for Cas and Dean's sake. The two morons really needed to get laid, and preferably by each other. Gabriel stopped in the corridor. He sneaked a peek into the kitchen. He was waiting for the right moment. Castiel was working with a wallpaper steamer. Dean was polishing the tabletop. 

Gabriel waited until Cas turned around, turning on the steamer again. "Dean!" Gabriel waved to catch Dean's attention.

It took a little before Dean realized that Gabriel was standing in the doorway. "What?" His voice was barely audible through the noise of hammering, drilling, sanding, shouting workers. 

Gabriel waved again, urging Dean to come out into the corridor. Dean looked over his shoulder at Cas, then at Gabriel. Gabriel shook his head. "Come," he mouthed and stepped back.

"What?" Dean said again, frowning. "Something wrong?"

"Upstairs."

"It's not Sam, is it?"

Gabriel looked over his shoulder down at Dean. "Nope, big boy. Sammy's fine. Come on."

The door to the bedroom locked with a soft metallic click. Gabriel shrugged. Dean would understand. "Don't want anyone to walk in on us."

"I'm not gonna kiss you," Dean said with a wide grin. "Not my type." The grin covered up Dean's insecurity nicely.

Gabriel didn't want to keep him in the dark for long. He laughed. "But my brother is?"

Dean's face became a stone wall. "I don't want to talk about it." 

"Then what do you want to talk about?" Gabriel was about to lean against the wall, but thought better of it. The paint was still wet. "I could always tell you what I did when I found out I liked men better than women. I was twelve when I fell in love with Ion. God, I teased him the way you tease Cas; I was so immature then. I was fourteen when I kissed Kali and sixteen when I sucked off a guy for the first time. His name was Inias, and I lived with him until I fell in love with Kali again when I was twenty-nine. We were married for six years. Never really had a problem with it. Any of it." Gabriel deliberately left out any information about his brief affair with Alastair. _That_ he had a problem with. 

Dean glared at him. "I don't want—"

Gabriel didn't care. "Here's what I think: I think you're scared because you've never been in love with a man before. I think you are scared because it is going to make people hate you or despise you or make your life difficult. You are scared that Cas doesn't want you, and that you and he don't want the same thing. I think that you think that you have no idea what you are doing, and that you'd like to have at least a clue. I'm providing it, boy-o, so either get with the program or leave Castiel alone before you break his heart. It's in tatters as it is." 

"I didn't mean to—"

"We'll get to that later, dude. Now shut up. I'm talking." Gabriel patted Dean on the shoulder. "See, there are always people who are going to be asses about it, and you're all new to the idea of cock, at least on a regular basis, I understand that. But your people... Sam and Ellen and Bobby... they're good people. Do you really think they care? Do you think guys like MacLeod care? You're not stirring his beer with your dick, asshole, and everyone with a brain won't bloody care. Well, they'll care if you're not happy, but you see, you just need to get over it. It's not a catastrophe that you want to stick your—"

Dean's face reddened and he looked scandalized. "I don't want—"

"Then ask Cas to stick his in you. He likes that. And he likes you. I think he's falling in love with you. He's more awkward around you than around anyone else he ever liked. Yeah, it's love, alright."

Dean raised a hand as if to stop Gabriel's tirade. "Could you stop. Ten seconds. Please."

"Sure, kiddo. Go ahead." 

"Are you... are you _sure_?" 

All Dean's insecurities were somehow bundled into that short sentence. Perhaps the fool didn't understand that he was smart and gorgeous, and that anyone with eyes would be happy to have him. Everyone but Gabriel, but he had the second edition, the new and improved Winchester 2.0. Gabriel understood how hard it was for Dean, though. For a moment he considered whether he should give Cas's secret away or not and tell Dean that Cas had confessed his profound love for Dean already, if not to Dean himself. Then again, secrets and hints had no effect on the wall that Dean was hiding behind. They needed heavy artillery for this.

"Listen, Dean... I swear that you won't regret it. Not in the sense that I promise you that you'll get laid, because that's not... Just do me a favor. Decide what you want and stick to it. If you don't want Cas, then tell him so directly, and then leave him alone."

Dean took a deep breath. Gabriel managed to let Dean take the time he needed.

"And if I do want him?"

"Then you should go take what's yours for the taking. And I'm just happy I don't need to mention the interesting little secrets you have to him in that case. Sam was very informative."

Dean coughed and blushed. "Jeff Morgan?"

"Yep. And Dr Sexy. I admit, that photo shoot of JD was... exquisite."

"Oh."

"So?"

"I—" Dean rubbed his jaw. "Is he really—"

"Oh, Dean." Gabriel whistled. "I didn't think you were that stupid."

"Please?"

"Yes. He is. And I never said that." Gabriel felt a tinge of regret, revealing Cas's secret, but it passed as quickly as it had appeared. It was for the good of their family.

"Yeah. And we never had this conversation, understand?" Dean said firmly. "Never. Sam will never let me hear the end of it."

"And neither will I," Gabriel said. "Unless you get your shit together and treat my brother right. I might make me forget about it. I might even forget to tell Sam about our little exchange."

"Family dinners will be less violent that way since I won't have to beat the hell out of you for being such an asshole," Dean said, a smile flickering across his lips for the first time. "I suppose I better get downstairs to help Cas pick hairs off the walls. For family harmony and whatnot." He was about to reach for the door when he stopped, his back turned. "Thanks," he said quietly, before he unlocked the door and left.

\- 0 -

It shouldn't feel that way, but Gabriel felt guilt rear its ugly little head once more as he waited in the small airport lounge. It wasn't because he'd chartered a private jet for Sam, and neither was it because they were being a bit secretive, they had to be. Officially, Sam wouldn't be back before Sunday, and they were going to be extremely quiet about his early return. No, the guilt was there because Gabriel had taken a couple of hours out of his tight schedule, hours that other workers had to cover. Gabriel had always put the show first, and now he had other priorities. Priorities closely tied to the show, sure, but falling in love with Sam Winchester wasn't a valid excuse. Gabriel was quite sure that he as the producer of The House Angel should have told this irresponsible Gabriel character that there was no way he could run off to spend time with his boyfriend in the middle of a production. Luckily Gabriel was in a position where nobody told him anything, although Kali probably would have a thing or two to say when she found out.

He still felt a little guilty.

The roar of a small jet made Gabriel restless. He walked across the lounge to look out the windows before he couldn't stand still and went back to his seat. He sat there for thirty seconds. Then he returned to the windows so that he could watch the jet taxi across the tarmac. He used a minute to check the folder he was holding, checking the hotel reservation he'd made for Sam. He'd allowed Sam to return, but they were not going to cheat: Sam would not see the house before the reveal on Sunday. He leafed through the folder again. The suite was still the same, the room number hadn't changed and the jet still hadn't let out its passenger.

He looked at his watch. Surely there was something wrong with time and dimensions. Never before had minutes and seconds dragged out as they did now. Gabriel tried to stay cool and calm. He wiped his slightly damp hands in his jeans. He refused to acknowledge how utterly _screwed_ he was; he was merely restless. He decided to stop torturing himself by watching the slow progress out on the airfield. He walked slowly to the heavy doors that were marked 'arrivals'; the only difference between those and 'departures' was that the doors were thirty feet to the left.

No one could have invented more exquisite torture than this, Gabriel was certain. His heart was beating, the electrifying anticipation was killing him and he was nervous, so damned nervous. Skype had been easy and safe, distance separating Sam and him. In a few minutes there would be no more separation, no safety provided by the Internet, or by cameras and crew. Maybe the grim reality would be too much? Maybe Sam had lulled himself into a pleasant little cocoon, one that was set so much apart from real life? Maybe everything they had together would evaporate the moment the physical dimension was added to their virtual courting. Gabriel refused to think that thought to an end.

Still, Sam was too good for him. Far too good for him. 

Gabriel straightened up. He couldn't think like that. His Sam would never be so superficial as to dismiss what they had. 

The automatic doors swung open and Gabriel's heart hammered fast and hard. He let out a deep sigh, forcing down a sudden urge to flee.

Then finally, _finally_ , Sam walked towards him, all smile and shiny eyes and dimples. "Gabriel!" Sam put his luggage down; he left it behind, letting it stand there, lost and forlorn, a suitcase and a dark green cabin bag, on the stone floor.

The world had come to a stop around them. Gabriel's view had narrowed down; it appeared that he'd developed tunnel vision, because all he could see was Sam. 

The Sam was there, right in front of him, so beautiful with his slanted eyes and his soft smile. There was a quiet whisper, too, words that were Gabriel's.

"Sam... My Sam." 

Sam's eyes smiled too.

Then Sam was in his arms and somehow their lips were close, so close. And the kiss... oh, the kiss was deep and warm and soft and Sam knew exactly how to make Gabriel burn. With a hand in Sam's hair, an arm around his waist, Gabriel took what he had wanted for so long, pouring every emotion, every longing into the kiss. Sam replied in a similar fashion, greedily taking everything Gabriel offered. Sam made a small moan, then another; little aroused noises that instantly threatened to drive Gabriel crazy. It made him pull back, unwilling to stop. But their longing could not have its outlet here. 

Stroking Sam's cheek, Gabriel broke the kiss, pulling away at least half an inch. "I can't say exactly how much I want you," he murmured against Sam's lips. "I'm so in love with you that it makes me desperate. Please don't let me do something stupid so that I fuck this up."

Sam's low chuckle was damp and coffee-scented. "You shouldn't have sent me away. I have longed for you so much that I can't be held responsible for what I might do. I think love has a tendency to make me foolish."

"So we're a pair of idiots—" Gabriel started. "Wait!" He looked up at Sam, mouth slightly open. "You're in love?"

Sam voice was strangely rough as he replied. "Were you in doubt?"

"Oh Sam," Gabriel sighed and resisted the temptation of another kiss. "I wasn't sure. The way we met." 

Sam's arms tightened around Gabriel's waist. "I never thought I'd be happy again. Not after Jess. But you... " Sam's voice broke. "You make me happy, Gabriel."

Sam's eyes were tear-glazed when Gabriel kissed him again. The slight burn in the corners of his own eyes had nothing to do with tears, of course. The world went away again, leaving only the sensation of Sam's pliant lips and of warm tongues sliding into mouths. Gabriel sighed, and Sam's lips curled up under his mouth. 

"Better stop before they arrest us for public indecency or something," Sam croaked, stepping back, slowly letting go of Gabriel.

Gabriel nodded and took Sam's hand. "Let's get your luggage. We have a few hours before I have to be back." 

Sam's smile was making Gabriel weak in the knees. More weak. "I agree. There are better places to explore the, erm, aspects of our relationship that we could not convey through Skype," Sam said. His smile turned even brighter. "Three months, Gabriel, was bad enough. But these three days... after I touched you... that was worse."

"Well," Gabriel said, "I booked you a hotel suite. Would that do?"

"Does it have a bed?" Sam asked coolly. "If it doesn't have a bed it's not working."

Gabriel was sure he'd died and gone to heaven. He tightened his grip on Sam's hand and pulled him towards the exit. "Let's find out."


	9. Visitors

The doorknob was digging into Gabriel's back, but he barely noticed it when Sam slammed him up against the door only a second after it had closed behind them. With Sam's lips on his neck, Gabriel did his best to remove any piece of clothing he could reach. His own or Sam's — it didn't matter. His brain had shut down, and all he could think of was to get Sam naked and into bed.

"I want you... fuck, I want you so bad," Sam murmured, trying to kiss Gabriel and pull his tee off in one go. "Three months, Gabriel, and not a day without thinking about how you'd feel in me."

"Shit," Gabriel growled. If Sam didn't shut up, he'd come in his pants just from listening to Sam's confession. "Shut up, or I'll make you."

"Yes, please," Sam said hoarsely, shoving his jeans and boxer-briefs down so that he could rub his naked, hard cock against Gabriel's stomach. "I think I'd like your dick in my mouth."

Gabriel made a decidedly undignified sound before he pulled Sam with him in search of a bedroom. He even managed not to trip with his pants halfway off. 

It took thirty desperate seconds before Gabriel was on his back on a bed with Sam's lips around his cock. His pants were still on, clinging to his left foot as he tried not to fuck into Sam's mouth and pull off the annoying pair of jeans at the same time. As insecure Sam had been at the airport, as determined he was now, clearly experienced when it came to sucking dick. The mere thought of someone else's dick in Sam's beautiful mouth made Gabriel jealous. He grabbed a handful of Sam's hair, trying to get a modicum of control of the situation and of his sudden jealousy. There was no way he was going to come in Sam's mouth like a teenager getting his first blow job. 

"Gabriel, don't, fuck, more." Sam babbled as Gabriel dragged him closer, over him. Still with a tight fist in Sam's hair, Gabriel thrust his rock-hard dick against Sam's. Sam whimpered and closed his eyes, weak from the onslaught of pleasure. "Yes, please," he begged, undulating his hips to get some kind of friction. 

"Want you to come over me," Gabriel demanded. "Want to get your come on my skin. Want to have your smell on me," he added, lost in the sensation of _Sam_ , in the physical aspect that was all they needed to complete what they had built during their month-long courtship. Gabriel wanted to roll in Sam's scent, revel in the smell of sweat and the faint whiff of Sam's aftershave, in the taste of his kisses. He wanted to taste Sam's come, to lick him everywhere, mouth, nipples, body, cock, ass. "Come on, baby!" Gabriel pressed their hard cocks together, fucking into his own fist. "Come over me," he moaned again, the bliss of his own too fast, too violent orgasm lurking around the corner.

"Not... a... oh... problem," Sam gasped and came, head thrown back, mouth open in a silent cry as he pulsed and throbbed in Gabriel's hand.

"Fuck!" The slick hot come slid between his fingers, moisturized his cock. It felt like a long warm tongue over the head of his cock and it took only a few strokes before Gabriel wrapped an arm around Sam's neck, gasping and biting at Sam's lips as he emptied himself.

They slumped together in a mess of tangled limbs and messy, sweaty skin. Gabriel looked up into the sunlit ceiling, feeling light and content. He laughed, just because. "That was worth it, waiting so long," he said, turning to look at Sam, raising up on one arm. Gabriel let a finger follow the perfect curve of Sam's eyebrow, down across the high, sharp cheekbone. Sam's eyes narrowed. He looked like a content cat in sunlight. 

They used some time on exploring each others' bodies. Gabriel thought he could get used to worshiping Sam; he was bright and beautiful and with a body that Greek gods would kill for. Sam was not complaining, either; he looked decidedly satisfied with Gabriel's slender hips as he slid his hands over them, and with Gabriel's chest, kissing his way over it. Gabriel decided to ruin Sam's shirt and clean them up a bit before they got all sticky and disgusting. As pleasing as it looked, coming over Sam's perfect pecs, being smeared with drying semen wasn't as comfortable.

A bit cleaner, Gabriel snuggled up to Sam. The bed was comfortable, the sheets cool and smelling of summer. A soft breeze moved the curtains, and Gabriel realized that they probably had entertained the neighbors with their less than quiet lovemaking. 

Sam followed Gabriel's gaze. "Oops," he said and chuckled. "I suppose we're official now. Very official." 

"Oh, you bet we're official. I am never letting you go now. Mine, Sam." The sparkle of laughter and sunlight overwhelmed Gabriel again, all the pent-up emotions inside him wanting out to dance in the room's warmth. "I'm so in love with you," he admitted again, all defenses down for his Sammy. "I really mean it when I say I won't let you go."

"Not going anywhere." Sam reached for Gabriel, lazy and relaxed. He stretched under him, a long leg hooked around Gabriel's thigh. His smile faded and his eyes turned serious. "You know what I was like before, what my life was like. You saved me."

"It's... I don't want your gratitude," Gabriel said. "You don't owe—"

"I owe you nothing. I know. But you gave me everything, and I am simply offering you the same. Because I want to." 

Sam's eyes were deep and dark and velvet and Gabriel thought that he might drown in them. 

"Well, then I'll accept," Gabriel offered. "And if you don't stop being so adorable, I'm probably going to melt and if I'm melting, how can we possibly have more hot sex?"

"I could lick you up, every delicious, melted drop of you," Sam suggested with a wicked smile that made his eyes shine with mirth. "I could start here," he said and slid his hand up and down Gabriel's dick. "Thoughts?"

"I'm... _fuck_... sure it'll work well." Gabriel let out a whimper as Sam started at his neck, and worked his way down to his collarbone. Pink tongue and white teeth left Gabriel's skin marked and saliva-slick. 

"Unfair," Gabriel sighed, running his hands up Sam's back, scratching lightly, deep enough to make Sam squirm a little. Okay, they had both come faster than teenagers, but luckily Gabriel's dick was decidedly alert and cooperative, and he was hardening under Sam's kisses. Gabriel let his hands wander further down so he could enjoy the sensation of Sam's firm, fit ass under his hands. He squeezed it hard, pulling Sam up against his thigh. Sam was hard again.

Sam took revenge by latching on to Gabriel's left nipple, sucking and biting at it as he pinched the right. "I want you," Sam said, breaking the sentence up, throwing a kiss or a lick in at every other word. "Any way you want it. Melted, frozen, top, bottom, against the wall, I don't care. I want you."

"Are you... uh... oh, yes... _sure_?" Gabriel tilted Sam's face up with a finger. He didn't... no, that was a lie: he'd love to rush it, but he would love it even more to give Sam the time he needed. Then a thought hit him. A very sobering one. "I didn't bring anything. I didn't want to assume..."

"That I was such a slut?" Sam chuckled. "Good one of us are able to plan ahead." 

Arousal rushed through Gabriel like a thunderbolt. "You mean, you—"

"Three months and three days, baby. It ends now." Sam reached for something on the floor. "K.Y.," he said, and threw a small bottle on the bed. "Condoms." A strip of XL condoms followed.

Gabriel smiled and slid a finger up his own cock. His normal-sized cock. He looked down at Sam. "Better get on with it, then. Not too much patience, I tell you." He grabbed the bottle and waved it in front of Sam. "I'll lie here and let you do the hard work." He spread his legs in invitation, relishing the way his cock twitched. Gabriel didn't mind making a show for Sam, so he slid one hand around his cock, using the other to spread himself, giving Sam a view.

"Uhm." Sam's eyes widened. He licked his lips, very interested in Gabriel's little tour into exhibitionism. 

"Like what you see?" Gabriel teased, brushing the tip of a finger over his asshole. "I like how it feels." 

It didn't take long before Sam had slicked up his fingers. He slapped Gabriel's hand away. "Mine," he growled possessively, pushing two fingers into Gabriel's hole.

The challenging tone was enough to make Gabriel moan. Damn, Sam was gorgeously arousing when he got all possessive. Gabriel sent Sam an appreciative glance. He relaxed, spreading his legs more. Sam's fingers slid in easily. Gabriel was greedy and horny, and he wanted Sam now. He reached for the lube. He oiled up his fingers, smirking at Sam. "What takes you so long?" he teased, pushing in a finger along Sam's two. 

"Gabriel!" Sam swallowed a moan. He certainly liked Gabriel's help. He didn't protest. Instead he directed considerable interest into looking at how their fingers slid in and out of Gabriel's ass.

Gabriel thrust up, intent to get the fingers deeper in him. It hurt a little; it had been some time since he'd fucked and he hadn't taken Sam's size into consideration; his toys were sorely lacking in comparison. "'s good," he whispered, breathing in slow to relax as Sam worked his fingers in and out. As soon as their fingers moved easily together, the pain fading, Gabriel's stopped Sam with a hand on his. "Enough," he said. He did not want to be contradicted, so he pushed Sam back into the bed, straddling him before he could react. Sam became pliant under Gabriel, caressing his thighs and hips gently. Somehow sex with Sam was strangely effortless, as if they were meant for each other. 

Sam almost purred and squirmed under Gabriel, content and aroused at the same time. "We're very... compatible," he said, confirming the idea by a sentence. 

Gabriel sent Sam an evil grin. "And if you'll be a good boy and lie still for a moment, I'll show you how compatible we are." Gabriel fumbled for the condoms, managing to get one out and on Sam. Sam made little, dark noises as Gabriel made sure the condom was in place. Well, mostly he was teasing Sam, but still. "Ready?" Gabriel asked, getting up on his knees over Sam, the huge dick hard and slick against his ass.

Sam nodded once, lips turned into a narrow line of tension and need. Gabriel was fine with that, he'd give Sam everything he wanted.

Gabriel sank down on Sam's cock, slowly, slowly. He wasn't quite prepared for the size of it, and the stretch was almost more than he could take. Sam looked up at him, eyes half-closed, his face pleasure-slack. Gabriel swirled his hips, more teasing than fucking. Sam made some very interesting sounds, and Gabriel choked on another dark moan, almost a gasp of pain. "So good," he managed, his ability to speak severely incapacitated. He got more of Sam's gorgeous, fat cock inside him. "I'm gonna ride you so hard, baby," he whispered, taking a deep breath before he pushed down and took in the final few inches inside. Shaking with intense pleasure, Gabriel forced his arousal down, concentrating on the slight pain. Sam's big hands slid up Gabriel's thighs, and the mere sight of Sam's hands on his skin was enough to make Gabriel lose it. He leaned forward a little bit, his fingers over Sam's nipples. He got up on his knees, letting Sam's cock slide out, almost, before he slammed down on it, to the hilt, the slick noise obscene and hot. Gabriel cried out, with Sam, their moans mingling as Sam reached for Gabriel, kissing him roughly. Between them Gabriel pinched Sam's nipples none too gently, moaning again as Sam hissed and writhed under him.

Gabriel lost it. He grabbed Sam's shoulders, his fingers leaving red marks on Sam's tanned skin. "C'mon, Sam, fuck me," Gabriel demanded, already forcing Sam's cock deep into his ass again, determined to ride him hard. Sam gasped, then bit his lips, his jaw clenching as he tensed, grabbed Gabriel's hips and thrust up into him a bit too hard. "Good," Gabriel hissed. He needed the sweet pain to be able to hold back. "We're like teenagers," he gasped as Sam slammed into him again, this time a bit more gentle. "Yeah, like that."

Sam grabbed Gabriel's hips hard, big hands on Gabriel's slender hips, fucking into Gabriel with short, hard thrusts, refusing him the deep, violent fucking he needed to come. "Oh, no," Gabriel hissed, "That's not how we play." He undulated his hips, rotating and ruining Sam's rhythm, until he gave up and let Gabriel have him.

"I won't last," Sam admitted in between dark moans. "You're cruel." He whimpered as Gabriel slammed down on him, and Gabriel groaned too, Sam's cock so deep inside him, the huge dick filling him up. "Gabriel, please?"

"No," Gabriel gasped, "you gotta come. I want to see you come." Gabriel searched for leverage, latching on to Sam's hands. His body was tense with arousal, his mind blown. All he could think of was Sam's dick working him full and open, Sam's sweaty body under him, Sam's beautiful face contracted in pleasure. "C'mon, Sammy," he urged, picking up pace, riding Sam as hard as he could. Sam bucked under him, clutching at Gabriel's hands. He gasped, his sweat-slippery chest heaving as he fought for more air, for more leverage. 

Finally, Sam had to give up and Gabriel moaned in satisfaction. Making love wasn't a battlefield, but playing with Sam was fun. "Can't," Sam panted and stilled, tense, before he shivered and came, almost throwing Gabriel off in his attempt to ram his dick into Gabriel's ass. Breathing heavily, Sam slumped down, exhausted. "Gimme a minute," he begged, eyes closed, his fingers sliding up Gabriel's thighs, a gentle languid caress.

"Look at me, Sammy," Gabriel demanded, taking matters in his own hand. He couldn't possibly use Sam up entirely; and seeing him come, lost in his pleasure, was more than enough to drive Gabriel close. Sam looked up, eyes soft and tired, as Gabriel started jerking himself off, arousal surging. Gabriel liked being watched. He didn't use time to show off; Sam was done for, at least for some time. Gabriel made it quick and efficient, wanting to share the afterglow with his lover. 

"Sam, mhm, fuck," was all Gabriel managed. Three, four strokes and he was coming in warm splashes over Sam's stomach. 

"Good thing we already have ruined a shirt," Sam said, one arm around Gabriel's shoulder as Gabriel slumped down next to him, boneless. "But I like messy sex."

Gabriel managed to move his arm across Sam's chest. "I like to mess you up. As I said, we're totally compatible," he mumbled, nuzzling at Sam's neck. He licked at the skin before he sucked at it. He wanted his mark on his Sam, not that anyone would be in doubt for long that Sam Winchester belonged to Gabriel Alighieri. Gabriel had seen the footage from the day they met for the first time. The entire _country_ would know that Sam was his. But until then, a nice red mark on Sam's neck would do. 

So much for discreet. 

They rested for a while, kissing and exploring new territory languidly, as if they had all the time in the world. They had, just not this particular afternoon. Gabriel was reluctant to move. He was floating on a feeling of deep happiness. So many things could have gone wrong; they could have hated each other, despite their Internet fling. Sam could have been starstruck and Gabriel could have been horny and clingy for a piece of pretty ass. Gabriel turned on his back, sighing happily. None of that had happened. Sam was in love, and so was Gabriel.

Miracles did happen. 

Unfortunately no miracles appeared that could bend time or stretch it. Gabriel looked at his cell, knowing that he had to leave as not to rise suspicion. Kali and Meg ran the show better than Gabriel did. Meg and Kali didn't disappear to fuck the participants, for instance. Still, with his back covered, Gabriel had responsibilities. Kali would raise hell if she thought he was doing something he shouldn't. Gabriel leaned in and kissed Sam gently. He knew that a loving kiss would be his undoing, so he didn't dare deepen the gentle brush of lips. "I better get back to the lot before anything unfortunate happens. It's so hard to get decent workers these days. Can't leave the kids alone for too long." Gabriel slid his finger down Sam's chest, teasing his nipple. He could stay a bit longer, he decided. Sam moaned so prettily. He'd deal with Kali and Meg if he had to. Sam was more important. 

Sam moaned as Gabriel circled his nipple again. "If you're leaving, you better do it right now, otherwise you might be late if you continue that."

Gabriel gave up. Sam made some very interesting sounds and Gabriel's cock twitched. "Half an hour. And then I have to go."

Sam spread his legs wantonly and pulled Gabriel on top of him. "They do say that third's the charm, so I expect something extraordinary."

Gabriel groaned as Sam's big hands landed on his ass, squeezing his cheeks firmly. "I'll do my best."

\- 0 -

"Oh my God! Oh my God! It's Dr. Sexy!" Meg ran screaming into the half-made house, flailing like a fourteen year old girl at the sight of her idol. "Gabe! Kali! Sexy! Cas!"

The excessive screaming made Castiel straighten up, already tense and annoyed. He sent Dean a look before he put down the paintbrush. Looking at Dean didn't do much to make the annoyance go away, because Dean looked elated and excited. If Castiel had anything to say about anything, _he_ would be the only man who made Dean look so... tense with anticipation and excitement. Castiel took a rag and wiped paint off of his hands. He threw it in a plastic bag that filled the entire kitchen sink. "I suppose that is our clue," Castiel said, his lips a narrow line of irritation. "You know we usually invite celebrity guests to help out on the show, and Steve is this week's pick." It was a lie, of course, but Castiel couldn't bring himself to tell Dean the truth: that he had invited Steve for a number of reasons, some of which were contradicting each other violently. 

Yeah, Castiel had his reasons. To get Dean off his back. To make Dean jealous. To please Dean. To test the depth of his own feelings. Castiel couldn't decide, and he didn't get the chance. 

"It's Dr Sexy!" Dean beamed. "God, I'm like twelve. But he's so hot! Can I go say hello?" he asked, at the same time looking out the windows, trying to get a glimpse of Dr Annoying.

Castiel felt jealousy rear its ugly head, although he tried to tell himself that Dean couldn't possibly be thinking of Steve in that way. The character he played was admittedly sexy and charming, but Steve was a truly unpleasant and arrogant person, and Dean wasn't gay anyway, except he was. Dean, on the other hand, seemed to have forgotten that Castiel had told him that he didn't find Steve terribly pleasant. 

"Yes." Castiel didn't care to elaborate, but needed to behave professionally, so he managed to get out a, "I invited him here for you, so that you could meet him."

"Aw, you really do love me," Dean said and pulled Castiel with him, without caring about Castiel's reluctance to go outside and join the commotion. Castiel had no urge to see Dean fawn over Steve, nor did he have any urge to see Steve again; he'd had enough of him that one time when Steve had hit on him hard at the network party. On the other hand, Castiel had asked Anna to come, and he wanted to speak to her. Anna was his sister after all. Their relationship was strained, and he'd do what he could to make it better, not least because she had done him a great favor by bringing Steve. 

Castiel followed Dean through the growing group of Steve's fans. Anna was there, thank God, right next to the asswipe. Anna could handle him; it wasn't for nothing that she was one of the best publicists in LA. "Thank you," Castiel said as he stepped up to her and kissed her cheek, attempting to keep her as a shield between them and Steve. "I know that I asked too much of you, so thank you."

She rolled her eyes, her back to Steve. "Steve wanted to come here and help," she said, her tone sugary-sweet. Castiel knew his little sister well enough to know what that meant: she was annoyed. Yes, Castiel knew precisely what she meant without needing her explanation: Steve had found yet another way to promote himself. Appearing on a nationwide show, pretending to be a humanitarian, polishing his tarnished image had been exactly what the asshole needed.

Unfortunately Castiel's short conversation with Anna had left Steve time enough to spot a fan. That said fan was also the most handsome man in the entire state made Dean comparative to a honey jar of goodness for Steve. Castiel turned around, trying to prevent it, but Steve was already leaning over Dean, one hand on his arm, laughing at whatever it was that Dean had said.

"-green as your eyes; they're fantastic," Steve said, making Castiel want to throw up. "Have you ever considered going into show business," Steve went on, "because it's such a waste that you're in this town. Being a factory worker..."

Castiel groaned. Factory worker? Show business? Yes, surely Dean would fall for that, having his talent as a master brewer ignored and belittled by a third-rate afternoon-tv actor.

"Really, you think I have the talent for that?" Dean purred, looking at Steve as if he was the second coming of Christ. 

Steve lapped it up, ever so sure that his divine presence was all he needed to have people worship him. 

Castiel had a distinct theory that Steve had his origin a few floors down in a place where the heating was always on. He glared at Steve, but he was far too busy hitting on Dean to notice. Seething, Castiel watched as Steve slid his hand down Dean's arm. The man had the subtlety of a drunken rhino. Castiel recognized the moves: he'd been the target of them himself once. One should think that anyone with the ability to appear on screen, playing... Castiel snorted at the idea. Steve didn't _play_ his characters. He played Steve, only with six different expressions since those six faces were the full range of his acting abilities. It was a bit petty and maybe Castiel was a bit unfair, but uncontrollable feelings were raging inside him. God, it had been a mistake to ask Anna to bring that infuriating ass. Castiel clenched his fists.

Steve didn't as much as look at Castiel. He was glued to Dean, working so fast, hitting on him, that Castiel couldn't believe his own eyes. And Dean? Dean had eyes for nobody but his beloved Dr Sexy. The camera crews circled around them. Dr Sexy had a big following and viewers enough to matter. No matter his anger, Castiel could not afford alienating Steve, not if it reflected badly on _The House Angel_. Castiel wished he could step in himself, telling Steve to lay off, but he knew he had to hold back. They needed the footage. Also there was the minor problem that Dean was entitled to make his own choices and mistakes. Castiel had no right to Dean or any right to limit his choices. There was such a thing as free will and Castiel appreciated that. 

Except when it came to Dean and his doe-eyed infatuation with Steve. 

Then Steve put his hand on Dean's waist, leaning in to whisper something in Dean's ear. Castiel heard only two things: _dinner_ and _my place_. Then all his good intentions about free will shattered and Castiel had to hold himself back as not to punch Steve in his arrogant, smug face.

Dean was _his_ , and Castiel was not going to let some third rate actor ruin what little progress Dean and he had made before Steve arrived. Castiel had never been jealous before, but now rejection and need surged through him like a flood of pain and desperation. Castiel couldn't believe that Dean was falling for Steve's pathetic attempts at flirting, crude and unsophisticated as they were. Dean couldn't possibly be that infatuated, could he?

Finally Castiel gave up pretending that he didn't care. He took a few steps, ready to act upon his sudden anger. He was certain that every jealous emotion was visible on his face, and he'd never felt so vulnerable as he did that instant. For the first time in his life, Castiel had something, someone, to lose. If there was the slightest chance that he could have Dean, he would fight to the end. He took a deep breath. Punching Steve in the face would probably cost Castiel his job. It would be worth it.

But before Castiel could do anything, Dean straightened up, looked at Steve in the most wicked way as he licked his lips. Then Dean swayed his hips almost seductively before he turned and looked at Castiel over his shoulder. Dean's razor-sharp smile could have made a hungry shark green with envy.

"You were right, Cas," Dean said loudly and with utter disregard for the cameras. "This guy... he's probably the biggest douchewad I have ever met." Dean looked at his watch. "Less than five minutes and he actually thinks I'd take him up on his pathetic and thinly veiled come-on. He actually thought that he could fuck me in return for dinner. Incredible. I'm actually not sure whether I'm offended because he thought I was for sale, or because he thought I was that cheap."

Steve looked as if he'd just been hit in the face. Not entirely wrong; Dean's comment had hit Steve right in the vanity.

Pretending not to have heard, Steve turned to look at Castiel. "Oh, Castiel." Steve was trying hard to look as if his advances hadn't just been dismissed by Dean. "Didn't notice you here."

"Hello, I'm talking to you, douchebag," Dean growled, although he hadn't been talking to Steve at all. 

That got Steve's attention. 

"For your information," Dean continued, pointing accusingly at Steve, "and not because I need your validation, because I can't tell you exactly how many fucks I don't give, I am not 'a factory worker'. Not that there is anything wrong with that. I do, however, own a brewery. And you know, I'd much rather be with someone who understands what it entails; someone who supports me and helps me improve. Like Castiel here." Dean leaned in conspiratorially and told Steve, "Did you know that Castiel actually invited one of the most famous brew masters in the world to come here and cooperate with me? There's support for you, asshole. That's the type of guy I'd want to date." Dean glared at Steve coldly.

Dean's righteous anger made Castiel glad that there were no actual weapons present on the lot. Castiel's heart had skipped a beat when Dean mentioned dating— dating someone like him. "You'd date... I mean-"

The sexy was slipping for Dr Sexy, and before Dean could reply, Steve was at it again. "Don't be ridiculous. Castiel is boring." Steve looked at Castiel as if he'd been a particularly disgusting and hairy bug. "You know, he was stalking me once—"

Steve was interrupted by Dean's roar of laughter. "You know what, dude? Unfortunately for you I heard another version of that story, and even if Cas was the most boring man on earth, I'd still wanna date him, and not a pathetic loser like you who thinks that because his ass has been on TV every man on earth is willing to take your dick up their own." Dean patted Steven on the back, looking at him with the biggest shit-eating grin. "I'm sure you'll find someone stupid enough to actually fall for your crap. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go ask Cas whether he'd like to have dinner with me, and you know... I'm gonna treat him right."

Dumbfounded, Steve didn't say anything, but he backed away a few steps, only to bump into Anna. "Hey!" she growled, apparently as enamored with Steve as Dean. "Watch it."

Castiel just stood there, blinking at the surreal scene that was played out in front of him. He was sure he looked as dumbfounded as Steve.

"Yeah, I know, Stevie," Dean said. "A clear case of clashing personalities," Dean said, the grin still on his face. "I mean, between you and Cas. Cas actually has one."

Castiel finally decided to do something other than to gape at Dean. He needed to do a bit of damage control first, before he cornered Dean for a more... private talk. He looked around, and luckily aid wasn't far away. Castiel waved. "Kali? Please?"

She looked at him as if she sensed his distress. "Are you all right, Castiel?"

"Kali, we need to get some shots of Steve helping the builders. Right away, please. If you could accompany him and make sure we have everything we need so that we do not have to convenience him a second time. His work and his time are important." Castiel took a few steps towards her, then back, restless and upset because he knew that if somebody didn't remove Steve from his immediate vicinity, there would be violence.

Kali smiled sweetly and pulled Steve with her, chatting happily, her behavior very _not_ Kali. She sent Castiel a questioning look over her shoulder as they went, the camera crews traipsing along. Only interested in his own well-being and the fact that an attractive woman was flirting with him, Steve chatted and smiled. A remarkable feat since the man kept his head where he usually kept it, and Castiel mouthed an, "I'm sorry!" at Kali. He knew he'd have to explain and apologize profusely later on, but for now, he was saved.

Then Castiel realized that he'd made an error. With Dr Sexy's departure, the workers went back to what they'd been doing, leaving the lawn mostly empty, except for... Dean. Castiel breathed in deep, blushing, as he realized that Dean had been staring at him. They were alone, or as alone they could be in a house filled with workers and builders. It was highly uncomfortable.

"I could see it in your eyes. You'd have hit him." Dean's smile softened, merely a curl at the corners of his mouth. "That was damned hot, Cas."

Castiel swallowed. "You don't mean that. You were... I mean. You like Dr Sexy..."

"Really?" Dean stepped closer. "I think we should discuss the fact that you invited him here for me. It was you, Cas."

"That's my job. My work. It' is what I am obligated to do for the network." Castiel had no urge to elaborate. Yes, it'd please Dean, and that was part reason for the invitation. The other part, the part where Steve was supposed to do exactly what he'd just done, so that Dean would be distracted from the teasing and flirting, that part Castiel didn't want to talk about. Neither did he want to talk about the part where he was becoming jealous because Steve had flirted with Dean. "We are supposed to be professionals here."

"You tell yourself that, sweetheart. It was another tune earlier."

Castiel frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You said that you'd admit that I'm hot when I stopped being smug about it. _I am far too happy that someone might like me, and I act like a jerk_ , you said," Dean argued. "And then you said that when I'd decided not to be so smug about it, then perhaps you'd want to tell me whether you like me or not. And I'm not smug now. So?" Dean's eyebrow made a challenging arc. 

All oxygen seemed to have disappeared because Castiel had difficulties breathing. "I don't... I can't... You're not gay, why does it matter how I assess your physical appearance?" Oh, God. Castiel was willing to throw himself at Dean's feet, worshiping every inch of him if he thought it would work. Yes, Castiel had seen the flicker of interest, maybe Gabriel had been right all along, and maybe, just maybe, there was a chance. Castiel was willing to take it. He had to try. Sure, there had been banter and flirting and teasing and Dean admitting that he'd rather date him than Steve. Maybe Dean was truly serious? Castiel was studying Dean with his head slightly tilted, his lips parted. "Dean. Please."

"You say that a lot." Dean took a step forward, looking Castiel in the eye. He smiled, a smile that made his eyes glitter and the corners of his eyes wrinkle in the most charming fashion. "I've never been attracted to a man before, that much's true. Dr Sexy doesn't count. Or Jeffrey Dean Morgan." Dean's smile faded and was exchanged for an expression of honesty and openness. "They were little men on the screen or on a centerfold. Not like you, alive and breathing and... right here. Real."

Dean was close now, too close, and Castiel was at a loss what to do. "And what does that—" Castiel started, then stopped, because he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer. 

Dean looked down, almost shy in the way he turned away from Castiel's inquiring look. He looked up again."And now I have. Am. Attracted. To a man. I- Cas..."

"You're... Me?"

"I meant it, Cas, what I told that douche. Go on a date with me. Dinner, movie, the whole nine. When this is over, I want to go on a date with you. Because you're..." Dean swallowed and he looked away again, for a second, insecure, before he turned his eyes back to look at Castiel. "I want to go out with you. Because I'm attracted to _you_."

Right there and then, Castiel was sure that he was either dreaming, or that he had died and gone to heaven. He stared at Dean, speechless, his heart fluttering like it was trying to beat its way out of his body. The butterflies in his stomach were the size of eagles, he was certain. "I- yes." Castiel couldn't hold back the feelings that had grown in intensity from the moment he'd set eyes on Dean Winchester for the first time and he smiled happily, basking in the light that was Dean's presence. "I would like that very much."

Dean slid an arm around Castiel's waist. "So you admit that you're the worst liar in the world, baby?" Dean leaned in, his breath ghosting over Castiel's ear. "Not interested at all, are you, sweetheart?"

Castiel was very sure that he'd once been able to speak words. Out loud. Coherent. He was quite sure that he'd formed real sentences previously to his encounter with Dean. Now he couldn't for the life of him recall anything that resembled human speech patterns. He merely made a small moan as Dean's hand, warm and calloused, slid along his jawline. "I'm... I'm interested," Castiel finally croaked, knowing it sounded more like a gasp than actual words. "Very interested."

"Thought so," Dean said, confident and clearly _over_ the fact that he was attracted to another man. He pulled Castiel closer, so close that their bodies touched. And Dean sighed, content, before he pressed his lips to Castiel's in a kiss that was merely ghosting Castiel's mouth. "Me too."


	10. Bruce Has Nothing On You

"I know how to sand, Cas." Dean stilled his hand and let go of the hand sander to turn his hand under Castiel's. Castiel held back a sigh. Dean braided his fingers with his, straightening up a bit, enough for his back to press lightly against Castiel's chest. "But I don't mind you helping me," Dean whispered, looking over his shoulder, his face close to Castiel's.

"You need to be more careful with the corners," Castiel said, wondering whether he should step away. He hadn't counted on Dean to grab his hand, but he had little incentive to pull back. It wasn't what he had intended; he had only meant to help. It had merit, though, letting Dean take advantage of the situation. 

"I could use the power sander instead," Dean said, his voice a low purr, "or you could show me how to do it properly. You know, bend me over and—"

"Dean!" Castiel hadn't known it was possible to become aroused so fast. "Do not tease me." If they carried on, the laundry room wouldn't be finished in time.

Castiel found it problematic that if they stayed like this, Dean's back pressed against his lower body, Dean would become aware of his growing erection. Castiel wasn't sure he'd be able to handle the embarrassment. "I'll get the Dremel." He pulled his hand away from Dean's, stepping back so that he could save what little was left of his dignity. Adjusting himself behind Dean's back, he hurried to find the power sander and the corner piece. 

Dean looked very, very attractive as he was using the sander on the tabletop. Castiel was almost certain that Dean did it on purpose. Dean was leaning forward to show off his ass. He pressed the sander harder onto the surface, making his muscular arms look even more muscular. Castiel was sure that even the slight sheen of sweat was something Dean procured on purpose, determined to make Castiel weak from desire.

It had only been a few hours since Dean had confessed and Castiel was sure that Dean took the confession as a permission to wear him down. Dean was trying to drive him insane, Castiel was sure of it. It was a good thing that they worked fast because Castiel's breaking point was getting closer. Rapidly. The innuendos and touches and the little whispers were a constant stream of little actions that pulled Castiel down. A titillating, warm breath ghosting over Castiel's neck or ear was enough to make him shiver and sigh and long for more. Dean was definitely ruining his sanity, little by little. It had been bad enough when Castiel thought that Dean had been bullying him. Now it was impossible to work properly. With the man of his dreams right next to him, all the time teasing and flirting, Castiel could think of nothing but Dean. Dean in his bed. Dean naked. Dean behind him, taking him hard. Dean kissing him. Dean. Dean, Dean. 

Castiel was sure he would go stark raving mad before dinner if it continued. 

Dean was an 'if you cannot beat them, join them' man. He accepted his sudden change of priorities when it came to his sexuality fully, that Castiel had to give him. He had been worried that Dean came with a built-in closet but being out of it didn't bother Dean at all. Maybe Dean wanted to make up for lost time, openly embracing the experience of being attracted to a man. He certainly had no regrets. Dean wasn't subtle. Castiel found it to be close to a miracle that nobody had noticed the way Dean was acting towards him. They were beyond flirting now.

Then Dean decided to demonstrate that he was able to use the sander _and_ stroke Castiel's back at the same time. Castiel considered whether he should go work on Dean's apartment, just for the sake of his continued mental health. He moaned as Dean's hand came a bit too close to sliding underneath his t-shirt.

Luckily they were interrupted before Castiel abandoned all sense and threw Dean down on the floor and ripped his clothes off him. 

"Castiel?" It was Anna. "Oh, there you are. And... Dean."

Castiel was relieved by the respite. "Anna. Did you get rid of—" Anna might have been able to dump Steve with somebody who actually cared. 

"A word," she said, grabbing Castiel's arm. "I'm sorry, Dean, but I need to speak with my brother alone." 

Dean sent her a wide smile, one meant to be charming. Anna returned the smile with a small curl of her lips. Dean looked surprised, raising an eyebrow, as if to ask Castiel if he needed help. Castiel knew he was in trouble but he could handle Anna. Dean's silent offer, however, was endearing. Castiel fell a little bit deeper. 

Without speaking any further, Anna escorted Castiel through the corridor into the guest bathroom. She locked the door behind them.

"Do you care to explain?"

Of course he owed her an explanation. She had pulled her star actor to the show without asking questions, and Castiel wanted to explain to her, although he didn't expect her to understand. Anna wasn't exactly tolerant.

"Yes. I'm sorry, Anna. I didn't mean to drag you into my personal affairs. Forgive me." Castiel meant it. He hadn't foreseen the turn of events, and now he'd caused Anna trouble. No, he really hadn't meant to do that, but he truly hadn't understood that Dean was interested in him.

"Nothing to forgive. Except that I've used a full day, listening to Steve. I seriously begin to question my judgment. I should never have accepted to become his publicist. But he pays the bills. Dr Sexy is up for another two seasons." Anna looked tired at the mere idea. "I know I owe you, but this is a damned high price to pay for my... ignorance, brother."

"I might have called it a favor, but... " Castiel squeezed Anna's hand. "If it comes to that, I'm the one who has to redeem himself to you. It was never like that between us, that one should buy from the other what should be given freely."

"Except for redemption. When I refused to accept Gabriel and you... being... and now—" Anna's eyes glazed over. "I'm sorry that it is so hard for me to understand that you'd rather be with a man. That you are both... not."

"It's not going to change. You know that."

"I can see that. Dean Winchester." She laughed bitterly. "You asked me to come here to push Steve at him, and I was stupid enough to be happy about it. You know... I thought maybe that you were... cured. But then I saw how you looked at him. At Dean." She paused. "I can see that you are not going to change." 

Castiel was about to protest and tell Anna that being gay wasn't a choice, when Anna continued.

"He's ridiculously hot. If I were a man, I'd be gay for him too."

"That's not how it works. Not for me. I'm gay, Anna. Period. And not because of Dean."

"But now I understand," Anna said. "I think I do. I can see it in your eyes. You're in love with him. And maybe love doesn't care about gender at all. I still find it difficult, though." She shrugged apologetically. "If he loves you back... All I want for you and Gabriel is that you are happy."

It was quite the admission. "Thanks, Anna." Maybe miracles did happen. If Anna understood that Castiel was incurably in love with Dean Winchester, he certainly didn't want to be picky about terms and definitions. Anna had come a long way, and Castiel wanted to forgive her. She had helped him without questioning his motives. They were good. He stroked her hand gently, as if to express how glad he was that they understood each other, that he appreciated every little step she took towards acceptance. 

"You need more footage with Mr My-head-is-so-far-up-my-butt-that-I-can-check-my-tonsils, or are you done with him?" She relaxed. Maybe she'd been afraid, too, that they were about to have another falling-out.

"No, we really don't need more Steve. In any capacity. I can work with what we have, add voice-over, whatever is needed. I don't like it, but I don't want him anywhere near Dean." Castiel could feel the jealousy flare once more. He couldn't afford to alienate Steve, but Anna really had to take the man very, very far away from the lot before Steve found his way back to Dean. Not that Dean would fall for Steve's advances, but Castiel preferred not to have to kill the guy. "I would appreciate it greatly if you could get him out of here. Use the network jet if necessary. Take him back to LA, please! Promise him an overpriced dinner at an appropriate jet-set restaurant. Book in Gabe's name; that'll get you a table anywhere. Send the bill to me, I'll pay for anything that gets him as far away from Lawrence as humanly possible."

"Or I could book in your name. I think they'd rather make an exception for you than for Gabriel. You underestimate yourself, Cas." Anna gave him a brief hug. "I'll go get my money tree. Before he hurts himself with a hammer. God, the suffering..."

"I'm sorry. It was a mistake to bring him in. An even bigger one to involve you. I won't do it again."

Anna nodded and went back to find Dr Not-So-Sexy. Castiel let out a relieved sigh and braced himself for another round of Dean's touching and flirting. He didn't know how long he would last before he broke and kissed all sense out of Dean.

He clearly had lost whatever sense he had ever possessed himself.

\- 0 -

As it were, Castiel had more patience and backbone than he'd thought. The laundry room was done, the storage assembled and installed, and the tabletops shiny and perfect before Castiel couldn't stand it any longer. He was looking at his wristwatch, relieved that they'd managed to catch up with the schedule. The camera crew was done, not that it had been easy to get the shots inside the small room. As they left, Castiel was leafing through the plans for the upcoming days.

"We can go rest now. We're done, and since Gabriel hasn't been here, crying for help, I assume the entire team is good," Castiel said. He pointed to the clipboard. "Tomorrow at eight. Until then—"

"You're all mine," Dean cut him off. Dean looked at his hands. There was a nasty cut on the right one and both hands were shaking slightly. "And I could seriously use a break. I am not touching a sander again in this lifetime. My hands won't stop vibrating." He looked up at Castiel, honest. "No, I'm really glad that we don't have to work tonight. Maybe we could... hang out? If you want?"

Dean's insecurity made a comeback. Castiel, too, was suddenly jittery. It had been so easy when they'd been busy, all the time having work to keep them talking and flirting with each other. An evening with nothing to do but to talk? It made Castiel nervous. The playful banter and the flirting had been an easy way to interact. It suddenly was _real_ and it mattered because Castiel knew that he wanted Dean. Badly. He couldn't afford to ruin what had grown between them. 

Dean erased Castiel's anxiety with a brief touch. He slid his hand down Castiel's arm, ever so gentle. "I'm not... I don't." He stopped and sent Castiel a bright smile, as if he'd sensed the sudden nervousness. "Come on, baby. We can do this."

They could. Of course they could. They were friends. They could talk. They liked each other. They both wanted the same thing. Dean wouldn't lie to him about it, Castiel had to believe that.

"We could... we could go back to the tour bus?"

Dean nodded. "I would like that." He looked pleased. 

They made it as far as into the trailer, into the kitchen, before Castiel caved. Mostly because Dean did, and if they were meant to fall hard, Castiel decided that he could just as well fall with Dean. 

"That date... if you still want? When we're done with the house and the show?" Dean was rubbing his neck nervously, his skin taking a slightly rosy tone.

"Yes?" Castiel looked up at Dean, trying to suss out what he wanted. Maybe Dean had regretted that he'd asked him out? Castiel bit his lips equally nervously. 

"What do you say..." Dean opened his mouth and closed it again. He made another attempt. "I know it's not the same. But... what if we make dinner here? There's some good stuff in the fridge; I could make burgers. I'm good at that. We could watch a movie on the laptop and... you know... talk. Be together." Dean eyed the door to the small bedroom that Gabriel had assigned them. "I don't want you to even think about sleeping in the tents again."

"I would like that," Castiel said far too quickly, revealing how eager he was for contact, company, anything Dean Winchester. "You think it's wise... to be in the same bed?" Dean had no idea that Castiel had been sleeping in Dean's small studio and not in the tents, and Castiel couldn't tell him as not to spoil the surprise refurbishment of his apartment. "I do not want to sleep there again, either."

Dean's eyes widened as if it made him happy. "I want to spend time with you." 

"On top of the fourteen hours you've just spent in my company?" Castiel laughed, the nervousness disappearing. He had needed the confirmation that Dean really wanted him and now he had it. "It's very good of you, Dean."

"Maybe you can find a way to reward me? I so deserve that." Dean smirked and winked, and Castiel sighed, unable to hide a soft, shy smile.

 _Too close_. It was all Castiel could think of before Dean's arms were around him and any second thoughts about being nervous about taking a chance with Dean disappeared immediately. Dean's lips were only a breath away, a second, a heartbeat. 

Dean was then one who closed the distance between them. Pressed up against the cabinets in the tour bus's empty kitchen, the edge of the tabletop digging into his back, Castiel did the only thing he had enough brain power to do: he moaned. Dean's lips were warm and dry and soft like the kiss. Castiel made a silken sound, one that turned rough at the edges as Dean's mouth turned harder, more demanding. Castiel almost melted into Dean's embrace. It wasn't surprising that Castiel's moan left room for Dean's tongue, slipping between Castiel's pliant lips. Dean's scruff rubbed like sandpaper against Castiel's own five o'clock shadow. Dean was so very _male_ and it made Castiel moan again, louder, as he slid his fingers along Dean's spine, touching every little bony hill underneath the cotton of his ragged AC/DC t-shirt.

Dean was confident. He kissed Castiel until they were both breathless. Dean refused to let go, not that Castiel fought the embrace, on the contrary. Gasping, Castiel hid his head at Dean's neck, unbearably shy now that they had both given in. Still, Castiel appreciated Dean's cheeky approach to courting. They were getting somewhere. Somewhere pleasant. 

It was Dean's stomach that decided that enough was enough. It rumbled so loudly that Castiel could feel the sound vibrating against his skin. Dean laughed. He sounded as happy as Castiel felt. 

"So, food?" Castiel suggested, a little relieved that he was allowed a reprieve before they went too far, not that Castiel was sure, exactly, how far 'too far' went. 

"Mm. That'd be great." Reluctantly Dean let go of Castiel, slow, as if he was regretting every move, every inch they moved away from each other. "It's a date."

It was as if Dean's touch had already burned itself into Castiel's skin because it felt as if the lack of touch immediately turned into loss and longing when Dean left him standing alone, a few feet between them, as far as the narrow space between cabinets allowed them. Castiel nodded curtly once.

"It is," he said. It was their first date, no matter how sudden and casual. Castiel couldn't care less what he ate as long as he could look at Dean while he did, but he was not willing to stand frozen TV-dinners. Not that there was anything like them in the fridge, Gabriel's taste was far too refined, but if they were having a date, they also needed proper food. "Go pick a movie," Castiel demanded. "There's iTunes and Netflix. And nothing with things that explode, I have never learned to appreciate that kind of movies."

"Cas, please?" Dean looked at him, begging. "Not something artsy in foreign languages. You can't be serious?"

"If it has Bruce Willis in it, then fine. Then I can handle the exploding stuff."

"Thank God." Dean stepped forward and kissed Castiel on the cheek. "Me and Bruce, we're like _this_." Dean reached for the door to their room.

"If you're going to be my boyfriend, you'll have to get rid of that unhealthy obsession," Castiel said firmly, his soft smile contradicting the ultimatum. "I will not have a boyfriend who is obsessed with another man."

Dean's mouth split in a wide grin. "Boyfriends, hm? I suppose that's okay. I can live without Bruce. He'll deal."

Castiel took a bowl of salad from the fridge. He didn't say anything. He put the bowl down on the table before he turned around. "Die Hard 2," Castiel said, his back to Dean. "And I'd never keep you from the love of your life."

"You couldn't," Dean said and smiled even wider. "That'd be impossible. I can be very determined once I've made a decision." He let his eyes slide down Castiel's body and back to his face. "I am even letting Bruce go for him. And Dr Sexy. And now that I think of it, not even Jeff Morgan compares to my gorgeous boyfriend."

Somehow Castiel's knees decided not to work at all. Good thing that the kitchen table was sturdy. Castiel knew it was. He'd built it himself.

\- 0 -

"That was delicious." Dean put down his plate on the floor next to the bed and leaned back against the headboard. "Didn't think that salad could actually be this tasty. Then again it might have been the veal chops that went with it. Much better than burgers, and that says a lot. That mustard-basil marinade was a thing of beauty." Dean burped slightly and took a sip of his microbrew. Leave it to Gabriel to choose the best: the beer was Dean's own creation. Castiel liked it too.

On the screen, Bruce escaped an exploding aircraft. Castiel put his plate down, too, leaning to the side to put it on the nightstand. When he sat back up, Dean's arm was behind him. Castiel sighed, content, and let Dean pull him up against his chest. Castiel turned a little, resting his head on Dean's shoulder. Dean made a soft, needy sound that expressed so much more than anything that could be said with words. 

They sat like that for a while, watching the movie. Dean nuzzled Castiel's hair, and Castiel's hand wandered from Dean's chest to his waist as Castiel made himself acquainted with Dean's body, a decidedly pleasant task. Dean was perfect to the touch; hard and muscled and with the softest skin. Castiel's thumb made a short detour underneath Dean's t-shirt, stroking over warm, soft skin and the top of a hipbone where his jeans had moved down a little.

"Cas..." Dean whispered Castiel's name in a way that promised pleasure, passion. It was too early for that. Although Castiel knew that he might change his mind if Dean continued to be so irresistible. Castiel tried to contain his need to be closer to Dean, his need for _more_. Dean's nimble fingers danced down Castiel's spine, teasing his naked waist as they slipped underneath the waistband of his jeans. 

It was a lost game. The temptation was too great. 

Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean's neck, pulling him on top of him. "What do you want?" he asked, unsure about where and how far Dean would go. Inexperienced with men, sure, but Dean was confident and Castiel trusted him not to leave his comfort zone just to appease him. One thing was to want another man. Another was to be there, naked, evidence in hand.

"You," Dean growled, "I thought that was clear by now." 

Yes. It was. Dean's erection was showing that he certainly wanted. "You don't need to—" Castiel started but was cut off by yet another kiss. He gave in, relaxing and tensing at the same time, his legs spread to accommodate Dean, getting more of the delicious friction when Dean thrust his hips against Castiel's. Hand clutching at Dean's old, soft tee, Castiel had to hold on to something. He lost the last shred of sanity with Dean's tongue deep in his mouth and Dean's cock sliding along his own, the thin layers of denim and cotton the only remaining barrier between them.

Dean's hands slipped under Castiel's t-shirt, pulling it up. Stroking Castiel's nipples, fingers moving in teasingly slow movements, it was enough to make Castiel moan again, wanting more. Dean was happy to provide. He pinched Castiel's peaking nipples lightly until Castiel could do nothing but to gasp wantonly, arching up towards Dean's hands to get more friction. Dean knew what he was doing and the light pinches drove Castiel mad. Dean stopped and pulled at the t-shirt again. He pulled it off, pushing Castiel back down on the bed. Dean kissed Castiel's chest, licking and kissing at the collarbone before he moved downwards to latch on to a hard nipple. 

Castiel made a loud yelp as Dean's teeth grazed over it sharply, hard enough to send shivers of deep lust though Castiel's body. "Dean!" Castiel wanted to reciprocate, but he had difficulties thinking clearly. Dean sucked on the nipple again and a hand slid between Castiel's legs. "Dean, God, please!"

Outside the small bedroom a door slammed and the voices announced that the crew was back. Castiel could hear Kali and Meg. Gabriel too. 

"No, that's..." Castiel sat up, halfway embarrassed although no one knew they were in here, doing what they were doing.

Dean put a hand on his chest. "You are not going anywhere," he said and pushed Castiel down on his back again. "I was in the middle of something."

"So you were." Castiel reached for Dean again. "But they're..."

Dean turned his head, looking at the door. He turned back, grinning down at Castiel. It didn't bode well. "You don't want your brother to know what we're doing in here," Dean purred, "or the entire crew, do you?"

"No. I don't." Of course he didn't. But on the other hand, he didn't want to stop what they were doing. Castiel had been longing for this for too long already.

"Shhh," Dean said, brushing a finger across Castiel's lips. "Quiet, baby."

Kneeling between Castiel's legs, Dean got a hold of Castiel's hands. He held them in a loose grip as he pushed them up, one hand on each side of his head. Castiel writhed under Dean, trying to get free, although he didn't really fight for it. He was sure Dean would let him go immediately if he wanted it, and being pushed down by Dean was far too arousing not to let Dean continue. The mock fighting made Dean's erection rub against his Castiel's and it was not exactly helping. Castiel moaned and rubbed himself against Dean again.

"You'll have to be quiet," Dean murmured, his breath tickling Castiel's skin as he went back in, pressing kisses to Castiel's neck. "You can't moan, you can't cry out, you can't scream. Quiet as a mouse," he whispered, letting go of Castiel's hand. Dean pulled at Castiel's belt, trying to open his pants. 

It was truly a lost battle. Castiel decided he could just as well help Dean and he managed to loosen the belt and unbutton enough buttons to allow Dean access. Biting at his own hand, Castiel made a low, throaty moan as Dean closed his fingers around his hard cock. 

"Mm, this is more like it, baby. You turn me on like nothing else," Dean whispered, stroking Castiel's dick slowly. "I can't believe I never thought this would be what I needed. But then again, I hadn't met you yet." There were more strokes, a finger trailing over the head, an almost painful pressure into the slit. "Can't wait to have you fuck me. You'd like that, right? You'd put this large cock of yours in me, won't—"

"Dean!" This time Castiel could not keep quiet. "You're evil!" Castiel thrust deep into Dean's fist. Dean knew how to handle a cock, of course he did. Castiel tried to gather enough brainpower to reach for and find Dean's dick. Oh, he'd like to have his cock inside Dean, or Dean's inside him, it didn't matter how and who. He just wanted Dean so badly that nothing else mattered. 

"They can hear you, baby," Dean murmured in between gasps when Castiel started stroking his cock. "And they all know now that you are mine, know what I'm doing to you. You like that? That they know you're mine?"

"Didn't know," Castiel managed, breathlessly, "that you were an exhibi— Dean, oh, please." Castiel suddenly had forgotten what he begged for and what he wanted to say in favor of the pleasure of Dean's touch. He couldn't stay still, not the way Dean was jerking him off. He was going to come, and fast. Trying to distract himself, he attempted to push down Dean's jeans so that he could touch too. His palm fitted perfectly around Dean's firm ass cheek.

"Fuck, yeah. Put a finger in my ass," Dean demanded between soft moans. "I want—"

Castiel slid two fingers between Dean's cheeks. Dean probably knew what he was asking; it wasn't that sex with women excluded the pleasures of anal stimulation. Castiel let go for a second to lick his fingers. He could do very little without lube, but they hadn't exactly planned this. He rubbed his fingertips over Dean's hole before he pressed in, gently and slowly, just the one tip, as not to cause Dean harm.

"Yes, 's good." Dean moaned and rotated his hips to get the finger in deeper but Castiel didn't let him. He was eager too, but he'd never let Dean hurt himself.

Castiel was getting bolder, now that Dean was losing it. "Next time," Castiel whispered, "when we have lube. I'll spread you open and have you come on my fingers. Nothing else. Just my fingers in you, until you can't stand it any longer."

"Hell, yes!" Dean closed his eyes, letting go of Castiel long enough to grab both of their cocks, rubbing them together. "I need you, Cas. Want you to fuck me, I don't care, just do— Oh, uh, fuck, I'm—"

And Dean was. So was Castiel, because seeing Dean above him, the beautiful face contracted in orgasm, the full lips spit-slick and half-open was like a wet dream. Cas shivered and hid his head at Dean's neck, attempting to at least come quietly. He almost managed, but mostly because his soft, low moans were drowned out by Dean's louder groans as he, too, came, semen sliding between their cocks and onto Castiel's stomach.

"Dammit, Cas," Dean murmured, out of air, before he slumped down on the bed next to Castiel. "And we haven't even gotten to the good stuff yet." Dean grabbed a corner of the bedspread and wiped them off, not that it helped much. 

"I found it very pleasant," Castiel said, halfway grumpily. "And I assume that you are being sarcastic. Evidence says that you enjoyed yourself as well." Castiel gave a content sigh and put his head on Dean's shoulder.

Dean chuckled. "Yeah. Strange to think that I wasn't into men three days ago, isn't it?" Dean's arms slid around Castiel.

"For a straight guy not interested in men, you were remarkably eager," Castiel murmured, utterly spent and relaxed. He felt a little giddy, as he mouthed at Dean's chest, too lazy to even kiss it properly.

"Quit drooling at me, dude," Dean found enough energy to flip Castiel on his back so that he could lick at his lips, sliding his tongue into Castiel's mouth, kissing him passionately. 

Wrapping his arms around Dean, gently stroking his back, Cas sighed into the kiss. Everything with Dean felt so right, even the clumsiness and the slightly awkward and rushed first time sex.

"I might not be gay for anyone, but I'm very interested in _you_ , sweetheart," Dean said when they took a break to breathe. "And if that makes me gay or bi or queer, so what? I'm not the one in need of a labeled box. Unless it's big and has 'Cas' written on the outside and you stored on the inside."

"It's called 'an apartment', Dean. Big square thing with a name tag on the door." Castiel looked up at Dean and smiled. "You can come visit if you like," he added. They had already joked casually about being boyfriends. It wasn't as if Castiel wanted a big declaration of undying love; they had known each other in the carnal sense in less than a day, but a pointer to where this was going would be nice.

"We're doing this right,' Dean said. "I've had too many... I've... Lisa. She mattered. But the rest? I didn't even know what I was looking for." He pushed back, leaning on one elbow. "Maybe I was looking in the wrong places, at the wrong persons. And then you came along and I sort of knew what I had missed all this time."

"What are you trying to say, Dean? I'm not sure I understand." Castiel frowned and stared up at Dean, eyes round and innocent. "I'm not very good at this."

"You're perfect," Dean said quietly. "What I'm saying is that we're doing this right." He frowned too, pursing his mouth as if he was assessing their naked bodies and what they'd done with each other. "Okay, so we're doing this right _and_ very fast. What I mean is that I've been... casual. I don't think I've ever been in love, because I never was with the right person. This?" Dean waved his hand between them. "This, with you? Not casual." He smirked as if he was thinking of something wicked. "Also, with Sam and Gabe getting it on? I think we're stuck with each other. Better make the best of it. You see, instead of just Sam being angry with me, I'll probably have Gabriel bitching too, so I need proper support. I suppose he can be very annoying?"

"So you take me for convenience?" Castiel didn't always get jokes and teasing, but this one he understood. "Thank you, Dean, that is so kind of you."

"I know. I'm a humanitarian." He leaned in and whispered in Castiel's ear, as if it was for his ears only, something intimate and secret. "I'll come visit. Now that I've found you, I'm not letting you go. You're mine now. I want to keep you."

A sense of happiness engulfed Castiel as he stretched and wrapped himself even tighter around Dean. "I accept that proposal," he said, very willing to let Dean show him for a second time some of the perks that came with being kept by Dean Winchester.


	11. Tempus Fugit

"Cassie! Deano! Up and at them! It's ten, and if you want breakfast you better get to it!" 

Gabriel's annoying sing-song voice pulled Castiel out of his peaceful and well-deserved sleep. He groaned and stretched only to hit something nice and warm and hard. Dean. "Mmm." Castiel couldn't keep in a content sound. He was sore and satisfied and he didn't regret as much as a second of the night he'd spent with Dean. With his boyfriend. His lover. Castiel sighed happily, not even bothering a glare in Gabriel's direction. 

"Make him go away," Dean growled into the pillow. "I wanna kiss you. Let's not make it a spectator sport." He raised his head in inch, enough to look at Gabriel. "Beat it, asshole, or I'll make my brother do something nasty to you when he gets back."

"Please! I'd like that!" Gabriel looked extremely smug. "Sammy has a very wicked mind. You think he owns a whip?. Because he'd look gorgeous tied—"

"No!" Dean's outburst was pure panic. "Out!"

"Dean, really? And here I thought you had imagination. Maybe a sense of adventure. Anyway, Skype—"

"One more word about your perversions..." Dean got up, glaring threateningly at Gabriel.

"What I was trying to say — before your sick brain decided it was something else — is that we have a call coming through Skype in a couple of ours. Sam and I... we might have cheated a little. Sam got back yesterday, and I have him stored away safely in a nice hotel downtown. We need you both for the shot. Not that kind of shot, I mean... it's a facial-"

"You brought Sam back to Lawrence, and you... you didn't tell me?" This time Dean looked almost scandalized.

"You were busy doing nice and noisy things to my brother, big boy. You should be pleased to know I sent Meg and Kali elsewhere before they heard you going at it. Cas sounded like he liked it, so I—"

"Shut up!" Castiel decided to intervene before it came to blows. "Gabriel, go away. We're in a state of undress; I wish to be alone with my lover, and we both need to see to our hygienic needs. I wish to do it without your brotherly participation or intervention."

"Oh, _lover_ , is it? Good work, Cassie! And, dude, why didn't you say so? And since you insist on being boring... You could let me watch, you know. Because it sounded like Dean knows what he's doing from where I—" Gabriel ducked and avoided the pillow that Dean threw at him. "No? Then I'm outta here." Gabriel laughed and closed the door. The second pillow hit the door with a dull thump. 

"He speaks Castiel," Dean said, staring at the door with an intensity that could have set it on fire. "Impressive. Not that it matters. I'm gonna kill him anyway."

"I might be inclined to assist you," Castiel agreed before he realized that he'd just confirmed Dean's slightly prejudiced view on his speech patterns and vocabulary. Castiel knew he could be a bit stilted. "Don't tease me," he chided with little conviction. 

"I won't. I'd rather kiss you." Dean forgot about Gabriel and dragged a willing Castiel into his arms. "Lover, hm? I like the sound of that."

Castiel was busy agreeing in not so many words. It was more like... moans. And breakfast was delayed for yet another hour.

\- 0 -

With the hellhound trailing after him, Gabriel made his way across the lot, talking to the workers, encouraging everybody, praising good work wherever he saw it, which in this particular case was all over the place. Gabriel wasn't sure how much of his infatuation with Sam that the volunteers had picked up on, but judging from the energy and care they applied to their work, his budding semi-secret relationship with Sam certainly wasn't a secret any longer.

Grabbing the hellhound as he walked into the half-finished garden, Gabriel sighed happily. He had known from the moment he saw Sam for the first time that he was _it_. He hadn't been sure then that Sam was the one, not certain that it would be forever, but Gabriel knew that Sam certainly was one who'd make him lose his footing and his mind. And damned, had he lost his mind? Gabriel had never held back when it came to emotions until after the horrible few months with Alastair. He had no problem being open about his feelings, but Alastair had ruined him as easily as Sam had healed him. After Alastair Gabriel had stopped flirting, he'd stopped playing the field more or less. Alastair had been one manipulative son of a bitch. Gabriel huffed, annoyed, but the thought of Sam made him smile again. He knew now, that Sam was his one and only, just as Alastair had been the one to teach him that he wasn't invulnerable. Sam, on the other hand, was the one who made Gabriel remember that 'vulnerable' when it came to love didn't mean 'weak'. There would never be anyone like Sam, and if Gabriel had a say in it, he would never have to look for another man, another lover. Fuck, he was so lost and so in love and it felt _good_. Gabriel made a happy, pleased sound. The hellhound looked up at him, snuffling at his chin as if the critter could sense the lingering distress of ruined relationships. 

"It's okay," Gabriel murmured into the hellhound's soft fur, breathing in the scent of warm dog. "Just wait until you see Sammy again. He's like an overgrown puppy, you see. Six feet and some inches made from utter adorable. You'll like him when you get to know him."

The hellhound snorted, wagging its tail violently. 

"He'll play fetch with you. Promise." Gabriel snuggled the stupidly wriggling dog before he put it down again. "And I'm sure you can teach him to get the ball for you if you put your mind to it," Gabriel grinned, imagining Sam and the hellhound playing on the nice green lawn that only existed as rolled-up sod that the people working on the garden were about to roll out. The soon-to-be garden was filled with summer: flowers in pots that needed to be planted, the scent of wet dirt and grass, birds in old trees that might have been on the lot for a century. 

Gabriel walked around the lawn area, keeping to the neatly tiled path. The glasshouse was installed. It looked lush and beautiful, filled with an assortment of herbs and spices that Gabriel assumed Sam would appreciate.

Then he spotted something he most definitely hadn't neither planned, nor approved. He frowned, looking at the small house next to the greenhouse. The very small house. 

"Your dog needs a cool spot out here. Thought he might like this. There's room for a bed and water inside," someone said.

Gabriel turned. "Well, I'm sure he will. Although I can't see why my dog is going to be in Sam's house." It was a feeble attempt, but Gabriel wasn't willing to reveal the extent of their relationship, not yet, not without Sam's consent.

"You're not fooling anyone, Gabriel." Ellen Harvelle smirked. She looked incredibly smug. "Jo helped me build it."

"Good job," Gabriel said, slightly at a loss for words. The small doghouse was very nice, a not-too-detailed scale model of the main house. "Erm, thanks."

"You and Sam." Jo said it like it was a statement. 

"Yes." Gabriel smiled at the thought of Sam, and it made Ellen's eyes crinkle at the corners, and her hard look softened. She didn't say anything, either.

"Mom's gonna kill you if you hurt him," Jo said casually. "And I'm good with a shotgun. In case she misses the first time. Not likely, though."

"Good to know," Gabriel said. "And I'm not going to hurt Sam. On the contrary."

"Clever you." She patted him on the shoulder. 

"Could say the same," Gabriel teased. "Clever you. Can't keep anything a secret 'round you?" 

"Hah!" Jo's laughter was loud. "If I was blind and deaf and dead I'd still know. Not that those heart-eyes you get every time you speak of him has anything to do with it. I suppose you're gonna stay here, or what? In Lawrence?"

"If Sam wants me to. Don't think he needs much convincing." So much for keeping the secret. But the Harvelles were brutal. And brutally honest. Gabriel appreciated it.

"No shit, Sherlock? Anyway, welcome to the family. Just be good to him. I like you, and I'd hate it if we have to kill you. Also, it's messy. But we'll be gentle. Fast. Promise we won't let you suffer."

"Ergonomic shovels are great. Can I keep one?" Ellen asked, holding one up. Gabriel wondered if he should worry about secret graves dug in the back of Sam's garden. "Not implying anything," Ellen said, maybe sensing that some kind of reassurance that the two women weren't about to dispose of his dead body was warranted. "I just like the feel of it."

"That's really considerate of you," Gabriel snorted. "To think that I'm going to have such nice friends here." He studied the surroundings, just to be sure that they weren't already digging. "Where's Mr Singer? Bobby?" He could be in the back, finishing the grave.

"Off to fetch the car he's been fixing for Sam. It's a classic. Dodge Charger. '70."

"But—" Castiel had told him that Bobby had plans in that direction, but honestly Gabriel didn't want Sam to drive around in a rusty piece of junk, even though Bobby's big heart was in it. He'd even pulled a few strings and made Lucifer pull some other strings to get Sam a very, very good car. "A Charger? Really?" Gabriel pouted. A damned coincidence. That's what he'd gotten for Sam, too, a Dodge, just one forty years younger. "If Bobby has been working on it for all of two days, it can't be very good?"

"Oh, Gabriel." Ellen picked up on Gabriel's reserve immediately. "You got him a car, too, right? Sam is not going to drive a Prius or whatever piece of trash you and your crew has planned for him. You've seen Dean's car? The Impala? Jo's? We do not drive those new plastic cars in this family, boy. Bobby is the best mechanic there is, and the Charger is going to be perfect. He started restoring it half a year ago, and all he'd left to do was the paint job. We have one of our friends, Rufus, working overtime to get the seats finished. I don't trust those four-wheel computers people are buying these days. They'll do a Christine on you and sell your personal info behind your back. No son or daughter of mine is going to place their asses in anything but a real car."

Technically, Sam was no son of Ellen's but Gabriel found it wise not to argue. Ellen was still holding the shovel. "I haven't gotten him a Prius," he said instead. "I'm not entirely without sense of style. Can I at least give him the damned Charger that one of the exec at Chrysler coughed up with? After a bit of pressure from my older brother, mind, but still. Sam's going to look great in it. It's the 2013 6.4 liter V8." The new Charger was a damned fine car, and Gabriel wasn't in doubt that Bobby would deliver a fine car also, but Sam needed a decent ride from Richmond to ... well, to Gabriel's apartment in Sacramento. Not a forty year old wreck with a gas-consumption able to up global warming with a hundred percent just by accelerating out of a curve.

Jo and Ellen exchanged looks. Ellen nodded. "Fine." She really didn't sound as if she meant it. "At least it's not one of those computer shoe-boxes."

They were interrupted by a loud roar from the street. "Speaking of the devil," Jo said. "Wanna see it? It's awesome. And Mom is going to make sure it's safe, not that we're in doubt. I don't think Bobby wants Sam's untimely and violent death more than the rest of us." Jo's smile was positively evil.

Of course the car outshone everything that Gabriel could have found. Hard pressed, Gabriel had to admit that old American muscle cars had their own rugged, brutal charm. The Charger's iconic grille grinned at him, a leering, shark-like grin, as if it _knew_ how great it looked.

As it were, Ellen and Jo were more thorough than even Gabriel's doctor had been the last time he'd been examined, something that had required the unfortunate use of rubber gloves and copious amounts of lubrication. The two women prodded and poked at the shiny wonder until Bobby began to look slightly offended. The car was gorgeous. The paint was fresh and glossy and... orange. Original color, probably. The chrome was polished and shiny and the motor sounded like a large predator, very efficient and very hungry. The interior was chocolate brown and smelled delightfully of real leather.

"I might have underestimated the value of a vintage car," Gabriel finally admitted, caressing the piping of the bench seat. "It's not pretty, but it has style." Somehow it was a style Gabriel liked. It was a car that flaunted it, and somehow Gabriel couldn't imagine Sam falling in love with a car like it. Sam was more a guy for the understated power plant that Gabriel had made Lucifer threaten his friend at Chrysler's Dodge Division to donate. Huge and black and with so much torque that it would make the world spin all by itself, the new Charger was hiding most of its attraction under the hood. This guy, with its tacky orange paint and its chrome sucker fish mouth and the roar of a tiger under the hood, challenging every passing vehicle to a fight? It was a car that Gabriel might not have appreciated as it should be appreciated. "I like it." 

"Well, ain't I lucky?" Bobby growled. "You keep your hands off it, or I'll make sure you'll do your next show with both arms in a cast. I have seen how you covet what belongs to your neighbor already, boy. Eyes off. Sam's car."

"Grumpy old fart," Gabriel muttered. He liked a decent threat and Bobby did them well, if not very believable. "And do remember that I have Sam on Skype in half an hour. You need to be there. Should I call and remind you, or is your short-term memory still intact?"

"Cheeky brat." Bobby pulled his cap an inch down and stared at Gabriel from under it. "Someone should have taught you to behave."

"And it'll take more than a grumpy old relic to manage what nobody has managed before." Gabriel stuck his tongue out. Maybe he should hang out with Bobby and a couple of drinks soon. "And someone should have told you to be polite to other people. When we're done here... Beer or whiskey? My treat."

"I like him," Bobby said. "And you better bring the good stuff, son." Bobby whacked Gabriel over the head. "Don't you have a house to finish? Get on with it!"

Gabriel didn't argue. He knew that he'd been accepted into the family, just like that. He was not going to question what kind of insanity that had moved Ellen, Bobby and Jo to do so, but he appreciated it. No, Sam and he surely weren't secret any longer. In a brilliant mood, Gabriel grabbed the hellhound butt, pulling it out from under a rosebush, and strode towards the house, a happy smile on his face. Well, maybe he shouldn't have flirted madly with Sam in public, but everybody was all right with it, and Sam would be happy, knowing that his entire family supported his choice.

And that was important to Gabriel, making Sam happy. He liked making deserving people happy, but he liked making Sam happy most of all.

\- 0 - 

Castiel was relieved that Dean and he managed to be ready at the time when the crew was supposed to talk to Sam. Gabriel would never let them hear the end of it otherwise. Gabriel had asked the crew and Sam's friends to the meeting. Cameras were shooting them as they sat around the laptop, half of them seated in the new garden furniture that they had found for Sam. Gabriel had a hand-held cam that was connected to the computer. He waved at them. "Cas, Dean, here!"

Castiel was grateful that Gabriel didn't seem interested in teasing him with Dean. Slightly relieved, Castiel sat down next to Gabriel, waiting for Sam's interview to begin. Standing behind him, Dean put a hand on his shoulder, letting it rest there, warm and calming. It was barely a caress, but it made Castiel happy. It made him happy that Dean wasn't at all shy about his decision, and it felt good, so good, to be wanted. 

Castiel looked up at Dean. Dean bent down a bit, and Castiel spoke softly, not wanting anyone to hear. "I didn't think you'd want anybody to know, "he murmured. "About us. Not yet. Gabriel knows, of course, but—"

"What? Do you suggest I should feel ashamed, being with you?" Dean leaned closer, whispering into Castiel's ear. "I might not have considered before that I'd be attracted to a man, but I'll be damned if I am going to get a closet to store those feelings in. I'm not a PDA-person, but you," Dean stroked Castiel's shoulder again, "you're just the exception to everything, baby."

"Don't call me that," Castiel whispered back. It wasn't that he'd like Dean to stop, though, not really. He liked that Dean was insisting. It was their first _thing_ , something they had together that only they knew about, the stupid little endearments that Dean used so liberally. And Castiel was very sure that Dean knew that he was free to call him just about anything he liked. Dean surely had guessed that Castiel's weak protests were only for show and teasing. 

"You two, shh!" Gabriel waved a hand. "Sam's on."

The camera crew moved closer as Gabriel's face changed. Castiel feared that he, too, looked like that when he looked at Dean. Gabriel looked strangely soft, as if Sam's face on the screen was all and everything his world consisted of. 

"Hi, Gabriel," Sam said, his smile all widescreen, full brightness, eyes in multicolor. 

"Sammy." There was an almost embarrassing pause during which the two lovesick fools stared at each other. If Gabriel hadn't told him how lost he was, Castiel, even at his worst when it came to reading other people, would have known that Gabriel was in love, and he had little doubt that so was Sam Winchester. 

"Idiots," said Dean. He stared lovingly at Sam. "How are you, man?"

"Good. Better than... since..." Sam sighed, but the happy expression didn't fade. "I didn't think that my life could change so much in such a short time. I never thought I'd feel truly happy again since Jess died." Sam swallowed. "But my life did change. My view. My... Gabriel... I can never repay what he has done for me."

"And you never need to," Gabriel added. "That's not how it works, baby."

Sam laughed. "Maybe you'd want to rephrase that, _darling_. Unless of course there are things you'd want the entire American population to know. Like you and me being..."

"A couple. Together." Gabriel ended the sentence, sounding determined and sure. 

In the background Castiel could hear Ellen Harvelle laugh. "Finally," someone commented. Jo Harvelle. Gabriel laughed, too, and glared at Jo. Castiel hadn't know that Gabriel was actually able to blush. It was almost endearing. 

"I could call CNN. Maybe they're interested?" Gabriel smirked. He turned around, looking at the crew and the assembly of friends and workers. "Well, at least you all know now. About Sam and me." He sent Sam a look. "All right there, Sammy?"

"Fuck, he's lost. Sam, I mean," Dean whispered in Castiel's ear. "He's not bitching when Gabriel calls him Sammy. Telltale sign." Dean gave Castiel a very satisfied look.

That one Castiel understood. "Are you implying that there are similarities between your brother and me?"

"What do you mean?" Dean's hand was warm and firm on Castiel's arm.

"That I'm not serious when I complain about your... extreme misuse of terms of endearments?"

"Misuse?" Dean's fingers closed around Castiel's hand, unseen by the crew. "Really, sweetheart?" he breathed into Castiel's ear. "Are you trying to say that you're not my darling, my baby, my—"

"Dean!" Castiel raised his voice, enough to make Kali turn around and look at them.

"What is it with you two?" she snapped, keeping her voice low. She glared at Castiel before she realized how close they were. Her eyes slid down, lingering for a moment when she realized that Castiel's fingers were entwined with Dean's. Kali sighed. "Not you two as well? Jesus. What is this? A dating service? Hot Brothers Inc.?"

They were interrupted by Gabriel again. "Shut up, people. My boyfriend has the phone booth."

"I can't wait to get back and see what y'all have done for me," Sam said. "I... All my life it's been Dean and me, and I know Dean would have given me everything if he could. He'd give his life for me, even, if I'd asked. Bobby and Ellen, too."

Ellen looked proud, and Bobby's eyes were suspiciously shiny. "You were always a good boy," Bobby growled, pulling his cap even more. "We're proud of you."

Sam didn't hide a sniffle. "I've been a burden to everyone for too long. It is such a relief that someone else is doing something for me, so that Bobby and Dean and Ellen can get a break. I mean not just Gabriel, but Kali and Castiel and Meg, and everybody else who helped me. All the people and companies that donated to us. Berkeley and the people there who have made it possible for me to look forward to the best education that money couldn't buy, because we didn't have any. They are giving me the possibility to pay back all the help I've got when I was down. Now so much has happened," Sam said, his eyes glistening with tears. "Everybody has been so nice to me, and... Gabriel-" Sam took a deep breath, "Gabriel most of all."

Gabriel sat, staring at the screen with the most sappy smile on his face. 

"Man, your infatuation is showing," Dean growled with little malice behind it. "So, Sam, I guess you can't wait to hit the books?" Dean asked, not too enthused about Sam going away, although he knew he should be over the moon. 

Castiel could sense the apprehension behind the question. Dean loved his brother, and he wanted Sam to have everything he wished for, including a few years at an Ivy League university. Castiel reached back, as if his touch was enough to console Dean for the temporary loss of his brother to higher education.

On the screen, Sam lit up. "Yeah, it's great! Only so much is happening, I don't know where to begin to appreciate it — or what to like the most." Sam smiled and his expression changed as he looked at Gabriel. "Although I have an idea." It was obvious from the look on Sam's face that neither Stanford, Penn, Berkeley or any similar institution could compare to Gabriel.

"Oh, jeez. I'm caught in a reality where everything has turned into a romance novel." Dean threw his hands up. "What did I do to deserve this?"

"Just wait until you are as much in love as I am," Sam said. "And you'll be intolerably soppy and girly—"

"Shut up. There is nothing wrong with being girly," Dean said gruffly. "And you don't know what you're talking about. Somebody else's slideshow, dude." Out of sight, Dean squeezed Castiel's hand. "I am going to be very manly when I fall in love," Dean said so that only Castiel could hear. "Right, baby?"

Castiel decided to step in. He really did not like that discussion. His relationship with Dean, if one could call it that, was still too new, insecure and wobbly like a lanky foal outside for the first time. It was too vulnerable and too undetermined to be examined and prodded and probed by others. "And the apartment, Sam?" Castiel said, "is it fitting for a hard-working student?"

Luckily Sam was easy to divert. His grateful appreciation of everything he'd received had turned him into a ball of sunshine, bouncing with happiness and light and hope. "It's perfect. Beautiful. I've never had anything like it; it's like living in a glossy design magazine, just with everything I like instead of some fancy, douchey shabby chic interior. It's so comfortable and nice. It's stupid how much luxury Gabriel managed to cram into 400 square feet. The bed is the best I've ever slept in."

It should be. Castiel had seen the price tag for the tailored-to-fit piece of furniture. 

"I suppose the Egyptian sheets and the designer chairs were a bit over the top," Gabriel admitted. "But you need to be comfortable, Sammy. You'll work harder and faster, and you need to do that so that you have time for... relaxing and pleasant activities."

Castiel sighed. "Better stop him before he confesses to the viewers not only that he will, but also under which circumstances he wants to have sex with Sam," Castiel murmured, hoping Kali could make Gabriel shut up. They'd cut it, of course, but there were times when there was absolutely no filter between what went on in Gabriel's mind and what came out of his mouth.

"How did the clothes-shopping go, Sam?" Kali asked. "You got everything you need?"

"Oh, yes! I am so grateful!" Sam beamed again. He pulled at the nice shirt he was wearing. "Casual, school, business, beach, fitness, formal. Coats and boots and bags and..." He grinned. "And clothes for dates. Although the dating part seems to be over. I'm taken. And I can't wait to see Ga— the house and all of you again. But I'm really split. I want to get back to Lawrence and my family, and I want to return to Berkeley right away, too," Sam rambled on, happy as a puppy. "Except Gabriel isn't going to be in Lawrence when you're done doing the show, and Dean—"

"Yes, thank you. I think we have enough," Kali almost growled and waved the camera crews off. "Goddammit," she hissed, making Castiel stare at her with surprise. Kali's patience was legendary. Leave it to a love-struck Sam Winchester to wear it down.

\- 0 -

"I didn't think..." Dean sat down, a bit heavily, on the built-in couch in the tour bus. He slouched a bit before he sighed deeply and straightened up again.

Castiel put a Coke in front of him. It made a wet ring on the Formica. Dean eyed the can suspiciously. "It's not poison," Castiel said. "What did you not think?" 

"Less than a week ago, Sam was sad and alone, apart from his surly brother and a grumpy almost-father. It's like the entire universe has been upturned for him."

There was a tinge of envy mixed in with the relief. Castiel wondered for a few seconds exactly how much Dean had sacrificed to keep Sam standing. "Are you disappointed? Not in Sam, but that— " Castiel cut himself off. The House Angel changed lives, and the changes sometimes had unexpected and negative consequences. Dean was not the type to begrudge Sam anything, though, Castiel was sure of that. "Are you all right?" He reached across the table and stroked Dean's hand. 

Dean turned his hand, closing his fingers around Castiel's. "Disappointed that Sam's life is better? Are you insane? No, I'm fine," he continued. He licked his lips, his mouth slightly open, as if he'd stopped an instant before more words came out. "How long do we have?" he finally asked.

"Half an hour. Unless somebody misses us and comes searching for us, but I doubt it." Castiel had seen what the catering had served. Nobody in their right mind would leave the feast to go look for them. "Our lunch break is safe," he said with confidence. "And please explain to me how your being fine depends on the progress of time."

"I don't want to talk about it." Dean looked down at their hands. "Sam is happy. With Gabriel. They've know each other for a lot longer than I've known you, and they are so sure of what they want. You think that time is necessary? A long time? I mean... to be certain?"

It was a more serious Dean than Castiel had seen during their few days together. Darker, more grown-up. The boyish charm had retracted and left a man instead of the handsome boy that Castiel found so infatuating. Maybe this what what he'd sensed when he met Dean for the first time, this strange, serious something behind the beautiful face. Depth. 

"I noticed. I am glad for him and for my brother." Running out of anything to say, Castiel became tight-lipped and mute. He didn't know how to go on. "What do time—" he began, then stopped. Suddenly he understood what Dean meant. It came to him like a revelation. It wasn't that Dean was begrudging Sam the happiness he'd found, not at all.

Castiel knew he had to be honest and brave. He knew there was a risk that he'd read Dean wrong, but it was a risk he had to take. "I remember what you told me yesterday, Dean. That you would like to visit. That you and me... that it wasn't casual for you. You told me that I am yours." Castiel hesitated, considering for a moment how to put it. He thought that Dean wanted what Sam had, but that Dean had no words to ask for it or confirm it. If Castiel was wrong, and Dean just wanted something less confining it was still better to know. Dean's face revealed nothing. "I am not sure what it means, Dean. Time. Is there going to be a 'we'? A you and me? The kind of you and me that Gabriel and Sam have?"

Dean's eyes widened, and his eyebrows made two beautifully formed arches on his brow. "Really, Cas?"

"I don't understand what you mean, then." Castiel tilted his head, looking at Dean with his head askew, as if it'd help him understand. "Is it unusual to inquire about such things?"

"Oh, Cas." Dean relaxed visibly. " _I_ don't want to talk about it, and _you_ have the social skills of a table lamp. We're going to be a great couple."

Castiel caught up with Dean's intent. _They were going to be a great couple?_ "Oh!" Castiel's lips formed a perfect o, and the outburst left an aftertaste of surprise and understanding. He remembered how he'd thought in the beginning of the week that seven days with Dean Winchester would feel like a very long time. Now it didn't. Time had moved so fast and so much had happened. "You mean the conventions in regards to how long people are together before they decide that—" 

"Four days are unconventional, yes. Not unheard of. Just not common, but who cares?" 

Castiel merely scooted a bit closer, maybe a bit too close. "But what does it _mean_?"

"Nothing," Dean just said and squeezed Castiel's shoulder tenderly. "It means that you better get used to it. You're mine, remember?"

"Quite the decision," Castiel said, still confused, but content to be closer to Dean. "As you pointed out, you've known me for four days."

"I know, baby. The thing is that I'm old, and I don't have time to waste. Keeping to one-night stands at thirty-five is getting old too."

"If you continue to rush, we are married before we manage our first proper date."

"I could get us a ticket to Vegas on Sunday if you want."

Dean said it with such conviction that Castiel's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. He was inept at social interaction but he wasn't a fool.

"Don't look at me like that, sweetheart." Dean's eyes were gentle and serious. "I mean it. It's Vegas if you want it." His smile was soft. "I'll do anything for you."

"You are really sure this is going to work, Dean." It wasn't a question. Castiel could feel the truth in every word, in the way Dean looked at him.

"No."

"Oh."

"What I'm sure of is that I have never felt like this before," Dean admitted. "And I'm sure I want to take the chance, because I'm gonna regret it for the rest of my life if I don't. It might be that we can't stand each other in six months, but I doubt it, and I'm still willing to take the chance. You're hot, I like you, and I'm... I'm sort of falling for you already." Dean blushed. "I don't wanna talk about how much I miss you when you're not here, just for an hour." Dean took Castiel's hand and stroked it, leaning closer. "I don't wanna talk about how I can't stand the thought of anyone else being with you, kissing you or touching you. You're mine, and I'm going to keep you, no matter what I'll have to do to make you mine and _stay_ mine. I don't want to talk about that, either, just like I don't want to talk about how lost I am in you. Or about how I'm falling in love with you."

"For a man unwilling to communicate in a civilized manner, you are remarkably communicative," Castiel said, unable to hold back a smile. This, he got. He realized that he spoke Dean, just as Dean understood Castiel so very well. "And I suppose you do not want to talk about how I am falling in love with you, since you are so unwilling to share your emotions in general."

"You're falling in love with me?" Dean whispered the question, almost in awe, his lips brushing over Castiel's in an almost-kiss. "I think I'd like to talk about that. A lot."

As it were, it wasn't much talking they managed before their lunch break was over.


	12. Cas, Cars and Collisions

Castiel put the small piece of sandpaper down, assessing the dining table, squinting as he looked it over. He brushed a finger over the wood, before he grabbed some filler, making sure the surface was smooth and soft. Perfect. He breathed in the scent of sawdust and the dry smell of freshly cut wood, content with the result.

"Done?" Dean's voice pulled Castiel out of his reverie. "Damn, Cas, that looks good." Dean followed the elegantly rounded trim, caressing the surface with the tip of a finger, as if he was afraid to touch it. Just looking at Dean's hand sliding over the wood had Castiel wishing that Dean was touching his skin instead, that the sensual, gentle touch was for him. "I knew you were good. You could earn a living as a furniture designer."

"Dean, I _do_ earn my money by making furniture, in case it has eluded you."

Dean stepped closer, stroking Castiel's arm. "You know what I mean. You could have a fancy shop, doing stuff that would end up in glossy magazines." He caressed the wood again. "I like the combination of wood and steel. Where did you get those legs? They look like rococo, but I'm sure nobody did chrome table legs then. Where did you get them?"

Castiel had to admit that he was pleased with the dining table he'd designed. He'd wanted to make something for Dean, although Dean didn't yet know that. "A friend of mine does custom work; he made them to my specifications. It's not done, though. The table top needs at least five layers of black enamel."

"Black and chrome? Wow. It's going to look like my car; she's black and with... she's beautiful. Are you sure it isn't too advanced for Sam?"

Castiel forced down a smile. Dean liked it. Good. "Could be. I'll let Gabriel decide," he said, attempting an innocent expression. Of course Gabriel would pretend to discard it in favor of the classic Frank Lloyd Wright dining table that he'd had already bought for the home that by the end of the month, in Castiel's estimate, would belong to both Sam and Gabriel.

Outside the pavilion, noise was dying down. The fifth day was coming to an end and they were ahead of schedule, not entirely surprising since they'd never had more volunteers participating in one of their shows. Even with fifty people working over at Dean's apartment and at the Winchester Brewery, they had more than enough people working their asses off for Sam. It wasn't too bad; that way everybody could get some proper rest before the furniture arrived.

"I'll go and help Meg with the tiles in the mudroom," Dean said. "I think that's all there's left. The painters are done."

"Outside too? That was fast."

"All neat and pristine white; nice contrast to Gabriel's black soul."

Castiel chuckled. "He's not that bad. And he's my brother. Be nice, Dean."

"I'm always nice, baby." Dean looked around before he closed his hand around Castiel's wrist, pulling him close, much to Castiel's pleasure. "I think I need to be nice to you, too, right here, if that's all right with you." Dean moved closer, his lips too much of a temptation for Castiel.

"Very all right." Castiel gave up asking or pretending or caring, and stepped up to Dean so that he could kiss him. Dean made a happy sigh that went right to Castiel's groin. Opening his mouth to Castiel's tongue, Dean made another soft moan before he took over, sliding his tongue into Castiel's mouth, kissing him deeply without no apparent care that they were out in the open. Cas slipped his hands under Dean's t-shirt, and Dean almost purred at the sensation, a dark groan that vibrated against Castiel's lips. 

"It's stupid how much I want you," Dean murmured, his mouth still on Castiel's. "I need to go help Meg right now, or we're going to be arrested for indecency."

"And I'm about to go see MacLeod," Castiel said, very reluctantly letting go of Dean. "We need a bit of footage, you know, about how it goes over there a with that batch of yours that he's taking care of." Glad he had some kind of cover-up, Castiel leaned in and kissed Dean again, lightly, only their lips touching. If he touched Dean once more, he'd forget everything about being professional. Again. "I'll report when I come back."

"Just what I wanted to ask. I mean, had it been anyone but MacLeod, I would have been worried, but he actually do know what he's doing, so I'm calm. Almost."

"He isn't messing with your beer, he promised me he wouldn't." It was true, nobody was messing with any beer, because that particular batch had died around ten minutes after Dean had left the premises. And they certainly were messing with the entire brewery and everything in it. Castiel needed to be entirely sure that Dean wouldn't go after him or show up unannounced at the brewery. "Don't worry, Dean. You deserve the best, and I found it for you. MacLeod is the best, and you know it. And now you better leave. If Meg has to go get you herself, she'll have your ass, in the not so fun ass-having way." Castiel turned away, grabbing his toolbox, attempting to fight the temptation of more Dean.

"Only if you promise to show me some more of the fun kind of ass-having." Dean swatted Castiel's backside not too gently. "I surely didn't get enough of that this morning. As you said, I deserve the best, and I'm gonna get it." 

"Dean!" Castiel tried to remain serious but Dean's smile made it impossible. Dean was a fast learner, and eager too. Dean had very nimble fingers, something the slight and very pleasurable soreness in Castiel's ass was proof of. "Tiles. Now."

"Sure, baby." He walked away, looking over his shoulder, swaying his hips a bit more than necessary. There was no way he didn't know exactly what it did to the remaining shreds of Castiel's sanity.

Castiel sighed deeply, as if there was a smile in his heart that needed out. He suppressed the need to go after Dean, finding a wall that he could slam him up against so that he could show him the pleasure of being manhandled into a mind-blowing orgasm - or the other way around, if Dean preferred that. Castiel made another sigh, remarkably similar to a moan. He wouldn't mind being against that wall, Dean's hard body pressed along his own, because Dean worked those hips in a very, very enticing way.

It was going to be a long day.

\- 0 -

A truck was pulling up outside the busy lot when Castiel and Ellen Harvelle were getting into Castiel's rental. "The furniture already? We are going to finish in time." Castiel said, sending Ellen Harvelle a small smile. "Maybe The House Angel should hire you to talk volunteers into volunteering," he said, attempting a joke. "We have almost too many of them. And we should definitely hire the younger Ms Harvelle too."

"So polite." Castiel got the notion that it was appreciated. "She's just Jo. And call me Ellen. I get the notion that we are going to see more of each other in the future," she said, pausing. She patted Castiel on the shoulder before she walked around the car. "Now that Sam and Gabriel have decided to move in together," she added, looking at Castiel over the roof of the gray Toyota.

"What?" Castiel stopped, hand hovering with the ignition key a few inches from the dash. "They have?" He was a bit clueless at times, but if that was true, he'd taken it to new heights.

"They don't know it yet, but really, it is a question of the two lovebirds having enough time together to say the words." Ellen looked smug. "Your brother is a lost case, and Sam doesn't stand a chance. Did you know, by the way, that Lawrence is the only city in Kansas which has a law that allows same-sex couples domestic partnership rights? It's better than nothing."

"You mean we could be offi—" The words were out before Castiel managed to stop himself. "That Sam and Gabriel could—"

Ellen leaned back in the seat and laughed. Castiel could feel his cheeks heat up. "Yeah, Sam and Gabriel could too," Ellen said. "It's going to be one hell of a wedding party."

Dean had been joking about Vegas, and now Ellen was teasing him with Lawrence's nice approach to keep a diverse city, despite being in the middle of a less than tolerant state."Please don't mock me," Castiel begged, managing to start the car. He looked at Ellen before he turned the car into the street, heading towards Winchester Beer. "I'm not even sure yet what it is, or what is to become of it." He paused. "With Dean." Except he _was_ sure, as sure as one could be after a week, that he wanted Dean more than anything he'd wanted in his entire life. Castiel had never felt the way about another man the way he felt about Dean.

"You sound awfully sure to me." Ellen patted his leg. "Maybe you are exactly what Dean has been looking for all this time, finding no one that did it for him. He was merely looking in all the wrong places, so it took time for him to get it. You. That it is fine for him to be with a man."

"You are very... perceptive." Or maybe he was just being incredibly obvious. Seeing that he'd never been so _into_ someone the way he was into Dean it was a reasonable explanation. It was as if there was a bond that neither had been aware of, something predestined. Maybe they simply were made for each other. If one believed in destiny, that was. In that context, compared to fate, a civil union didn't matter. Although Castiel did not believe in anything but free will, Dean was a fate that Castiel would not escape, he decided. Not that wild horses could drag him away from Dean Winchester, not as long as Dean wanted what they had as much as Castiel did. He'd still want to get married or bonded or civil union'd one day.

"I just know my boys," Ellen said. "Both of them."

They drove the rest of the distance in silence, Castiel caught up in thoughts about Dean and about the love for him that Castiel couldn't deny he was feeling. After the initial awkward few days it was as if they'd known each other for years. Still, there were embarrassing moments and awkwardness, but it needed little more than a smile or a gentle touch or a laugh to chase those moments away instantly. The memory of Dean's laughter made Castiel smile too. Maybe Dean had connections to Cupid, because Castiel was still nursing the exit wound. Not that it hurt, the soft fluttering in his stomach at the mere thought of Dean. Of Dean's eyes and his lips and the way his skin was tainted with beautiful freckles and— 

Castiel sighed deeply. He was so in love that his ability to think of anything else was severely limited.

"Castiel?" Ellen poked at his thigh.

Castiel snapped out of his reverie and worship of his new god. "Yes."

"We passed Dean's apartment two minutes ago."

"Oh." Castiel stopped the car. "Sorry."

Ellen just laughed at him again, and he swore that he'd pay more attention to everything not-Dean as not to make a total fool of himself.

"I think you need to have been a citizen of Lawrence for six weeks before you can actually register as partners," Ellen said, annoyingly smug. "It's going to be one hell of a wait, honey. Six weeks can feel like a very long time when one has it as bad as you do. And Dean isn't better off."

Ignoring the blatant hint, refusing to comment on it, Castiel concentrated on driving, returning to the small apartment building where Dean lived.

His attention was pulled in the direction of Dean once more as if everything that reminded him of his lover turned his thoughts with the same power that a compass pointer turned to the poles. This time it was Dean's huge black car that did it. Castiel understood why Dean had liked the black and chromium table he'd been making for him so much; the Impala was a truly impressive collection of shiny black paint and polished chrome. The car had inspired him, even though he'd only seen picture of it when he started planning the refurbishment of Dean's apartment. Castiel had liked the black leather and the silver trims, and he'd created a plan that hopefully was to Dean's liking. 

They walked up the stairs in a building that might have been slightly dingy compared to Lawrence-standards, but it was actually a nice old house that was merely in need of a new roof to be sound and non-moldy. The brand new roof was definitely an improvement, but the addition of more rooms and a state-of-the-art bath certainly didn't hurt. The unused loft that had been converted into a combined kitchen, dining and living room was one of Castiel's better designs. The stairs smelled of fresh paint and mineral spirits, any trace of the dark and peeling paint gone. 

The apartment was now consisting of large, light rooms, still empty; only the curtains were up. The furniture would not arrive until the next day, but it was a quick job; Castiel had made clear instructions and drawings for the volunteers. He still wanted to be there for the day; there was no way he'd leave the decoration of Dean's home to anyone else. It was Castiel's job to take care of Dean, and he would do so, even if it kept him away from Dean an entire day. 

Even Ellen was impressed with the loft and the structural changes, and Castiel didn't think that an impressed Ellen Harvelle was something you saw every day. 

"Oh, Castiel! That is wonderful. Dean is going to love it!" Ellen pushed the wide French doors open, stepping out onto the new terrace. There wasn't much of a view, a few parched gardens and a boring industrial complex, but The House Angel's head gardener, Joshua, had done a good job with the small space. The hundred square feet was a miniature garden, complete with trees and flowering roses and spices.

Standing in the shadow of a small leafy tree in a huge pot, Castiel nodded. "I wanted to create something akin to a garden. It's not much, but it's here." He turned and pressed a button on the wall, and an awning started unfolding above them. "Shadow and air and a nice place to sit in the evenings."

"And a barbeque too? Dean makes good burgers."

"He told me." Castiel decided to let Ellen know that he certainly intended to return to the apartment and to Dean. "I look forward to have him cook for me when we're done shooting the episode."

"Good boy. I thought you might. I am actually considering whether I should move over here," Ellen joked. "If I could talk Dean into moving in with Sam." She winked at Castiel, making it clear that she was joking. She studied the garden for a bit longer. "Dean deserves it. He has done so much for other people."

"I know." If anybody deserved to have good things happening to them, it was Sam and Dean Winchester, Castiel agreed one hundred percent.

They stepped inside, into the big kitchen and living room. "I thought I'd hang a large print here." Castiel pointed at the empty wall. "I had one of our cameramen who happens to be a talented photographer as well take pictures of Dean's car. I've been working at a monochrome Photoshop poster. I had it printed and framed. It's going to be almost as large as the real car. And I have a black Le Corbusier LC3 Grand Modèle sofa to go underneath it."

Ellen looked as if she'd never heard of the French architect or about his furniture. Castiel didn't blame here. He was a furniture nerd. 

"A 1928 design. Polished steel frame with leather and down cushions," Castiel explained, trying to form the angular shape with his hands. "Very simple and very comfortable." 

"Dean will definitely like it. Sounds way above his pay grade, though."

"We get a substantial discount, of course, but it's still a $10,000 retail sofa. It's the season finale," Castiel explained before Ellen could say anything. "We're using everything we have left for this year's production. Maybe a bit more."

"When exactly did Gabriel fall in love with Sam?" Ellen asked, somehow making the connection that Castiel had tried _not_ to make too obvious. "You wouldn't have done this for just anyone. I watch the show too."

"We do have two separate jobs in this episode. No one is going to complain. Of course it's going to be a bit expensive." It was a bad defense, and it was also a lie. They had gone all out, Castiel somewhat more subtly and less conscious of why than Gabriel had been. Castiel thought about the bathrooms that had been installed. No, they really didn't get luxurious Philippe Starck tubs for all the homes they'd done, nor did they furnish the houses with the best from world-famous designers or architects. Nor did they put in hardwood floors or basically anything of the sort that Castiel had begged, bought or bullied his way into getting for Dean and Dean's apartment.

"Five minutes into the video," Castiel revealed. "Although it might have been as little as five seconds. At five minutes he was done for."

"And you," Ellen said bluntly. "When did you fall in love with Dean?"

Castiel wasn't sure. But probably within five minutes after having met Dean for the first time. Or five seconds. Yes, five seconds were more likely, now that he thought of it. He shook his head, refusing to answer. "We should get over to the brewery. MacLeod is expecting us."

Ellen was a wise person. She didn't ask more questions. Why would she? She'd gotten all the answers she liked, even though Castiel hadn't actually replied to some of them, at least not in words.

*

Castiel pulled the car up outside the brewery, between one of the camera crews' vehicle and a mango-orange Dodge, slightly older than Castiel's own dated Dodge Charger. He frowned. "Isn't that the car that Mr Singer was going to restore? No? It can't possibly be?" The Dodge looked fantastic. There was no way that Singer could have managed that in less than a week.

"Bobby was almost done, he just couldn't afford to have the seats upholstered, not when he was trying to save up a bit to help Sam go back to school. Real leather and custom made... it's a lot of money, Castiel. It's not as if we're used to all that fancy stuff." Ellen said it without bias. "For once it's nice not to have to think about the costs all the time. Bobby splurged on the seats and the paint. One of his friends made him a good deal on the job."

"Your Bobby is a good man," Castiel said, and meant it. "Family really doesn't end with blood."

"No. Which is why Bobby hasn't fetched his shotgun when Gabriel decided that the Dodge would look great on him. Gabriel is testing it, he says, to be sure that it's safe for Sam to use, but I think he found the love of his life."

Castiel turned off the engine and it died with a low sigh, nothing like the roar from a Dodge's V8. Gabriel in a nutshell. Castiel really wasn't surprised. Sam would never get that car back. Although one look at Gabriel with the power of the puppy-eyes would probably make Gabriel cave.

Ellen opened the passenger side door. She bent down and stuck her head inside. "He's so transparent that it's embarrassing. And of course Sam can't protest as he doesn't know that Bobby restored the car for him."

"But you..." Castiel squinted at Ellen, assessing her again. She was tough, and yet... "Gabriel got Sam a new car... from our other brother. Not that this one isn't looking nice. You could have told Gabriel to use that one. Or one of the rentals. You really let him?" Castiel realized he was babbling and shut his mouth. 

"Yeah, I could. But you know... Gabriel." Ellen smiled fondly. "Knowing Sam, he'll probably like the new car better. More suitable for a lawyer. So Bobby and I... we sort of decided that we'd let Gabriel borrow the other one. Not that he asked as such."

Castiel was sure that anyone who'd ever tried to 'borrow' something from Ellen or Bobby that they didn't want to let go of would have met a terrible fate. Ellen and Bobby _liked_ Gabriel. Which was a relief, since they wouldn't get rid of him this side of the end of the world. Gabriel had fallen in love, this time for real, deeply in love, and not with an orange '70s car. Nobody, not even people such as Sam's and Dean's foster parents, would be able to make Gabriel go away. "That's very generous of you," Castiel said. He realized that he needed to move. It really wasn't going too well with the not-thinking-of-Dean decision. Ellen was staring at him with one eyebrow raised, expectantly. "Sorry. I am a little distracted."

"No problem." Ellen patted the roof of the car. "Speaking of distracted, are you getting out of the car anytime soon? Because I'm sure it'll be much easier to interview MacLeod inside the brewery."

Castiel chuckled, realizing that he was too far gone to care about his Dean-infatuated state. "If Kali ever quit, could we get you to run the show?" No wonder Kali hadn't been entirely happy about Ellen Harvelle. They were quite alike. Castiel shut the door and went to the back of the car to find the stuff he needed to bring inside.

"No thanks. You better stick to Kali. With Sam and Dean and the two of _you_ ," Ellen said, "I'll have my own show to run here in Lawrence."

 _The two of them._ Yes, Castiel would like that. Gabriel and Sam. Dean and him. He'd love to be with Dean, here, in Lawrence. Rummaging around in the trunk for the necessary files and notes, Castiel considered why Lawrence felt so much like _home_ , much more than Sacramento had ever done. Of course he felt at home in their apartment, Gabriel and his, but this city was different, its calm, slow pulse so different from the upbeat, throbbing city that was Sacramento.

\- 0 -

Gabriel admired the shiny new tanks. The floor had already been restored; the beautiful gray tiles, handmade in Spain, made the factory look high-end and very professional. Castiel had done a fantastic job. "Not bad, not bad at all," Gabriel said, patting MacLeod on the shoulder. "I assume you had a say in how this ended up, because honestly, Cassie doesn't know what's top and bottom when it comes to a bottle of beer."

"Oh, brotherly love. I admire that." MacLeod smirked. "As long as it only pertains to beer, obviously, knowing the difference between top and bottom," he added smugly, leaving Gabriel little doubt of what he meant. 

Gabriel stared at MacLeod for a moment. He reined in his own wide-eyed surprise. It wasn't that it was a secret which team he batted for, but he certainly hadn't expected someone like MacLeod to comment on it. Deciding to ignore it for now, but to slam it if it happened again, Gabriel directed his attention to the line of shiny steel barrels that MacLeod's crew had installed. It looked damned professional. Hell, it was damned professional, state of the art, high tech, super quality hardware. 

"And those?" Refusing to take the bait, or whatever it was that MacLeod had dropped, Gabriel pointed at the wooden barrels that were stocked up almost to the ceiling. "I thought that we were supposed to modernize the production? Or is that Cas's attempt at a modern approach to microbreweries?"

"Castiel is not that bad, and he is very interested in learning more. He knows exactly how little he knows. Most important trait for a beginner, if you ask me. And no, it's not Castiel's idea. Old barrels are in high demand; they are useful for someone such as Dean. Look." MacLeod waved Gabriel closer and opened one of the barrels. "Or smell."

Gabriel breathed in, and the old wood barrel was definitely different from a clean steel tank; it smelled lightly of apples and cider. "Apples," he said, straightening up, looking questioningly at MacLeod.

"Exactly. I have hoarded them from various distillers and friends. Oak, cedar, apple." MacLeod pointed at the various types. "Some that have been used for Kentucky rye or red wine or port; they are simply to use for experiments with barrel-aged beer. In Dean's hands I predict that we'll see extremely interesting and inventive beer types to come from this. Nothing like the cat-pee that lesser breweries deliver." 

Gabriel knew enough about beer to imagine and anticipate the exquisite-tasting dark ale or heavy stout that would come from months of aging in such barrels. "Interesting. I definitely know more about beer than Cas, but I didn't know that you could let beer mature in whiskey casks."

""You can do whatever the hell you like with beer — at the risk of ruining it, of course. That's the fun part. But Dean has this... flair. I've read through his recipes, he keeps an immaculate log, I must say, and he almost always makes the right choices. Not necessarily producible, or even close to being profitable, but right nevertheless. He's got talent, that one, and he is surely not afraid of hard work. If I thought he'd say yes, I'd hire him myself, but he'd be wasted with Guinness, to be honest. We're a factory, a good one, but Dean is an artist.

Gabriel nodded. He understood the difference, of course he did. And Dean wasn't going to leave Sam and his family, Gabriel understood that too, not for anything in the world. As for family, the hellhound was sniffing around between the barrels, and Gabriel took a quick few steps and picked it up before accidents happened. Gabriel would prefer it if the talk about beer and pee together didn't actually come into fruition in this particular brewery, albeit by accident. "So tell me what you've done," he encouraged, honestly interested. Behind him the camera crew was circling, ready to get on with the takes they needed.

"We have increased the capacity from seven barrels between two systems into one thirty-barrel system; it is more than enough for micro to go mini, plus a bit more" MacLeod said reaching out to scratch the hellhound behind the ears. "Even an amateur who insists on brewing piss-poor lager could live from the sheer amount of tap water they'd produce here. With the quality Dean provides? Not a problem. He works hard, and he'd be able to make a decent living from this in a few months. I went through everything, every page of his accounts. The demand is already close, seeing how many Dean orders has declined. He might even need a man or three to help him use the full capacity. But we haven't overestimated it. With two brews a week, he should be able to keep up with current demand; with three he'll be able to pay for a new system himself long before he needs it. That's the problem with these systems. If we need a bigger capacity it's not enough just to change the fermentation tanks and brew tanks; everything has to go. By the way, we restored the old systems and kept them as a reserve, or for Dean's experiments. I'll suggest to him that he makes limited batches. Customers like that; something exclusive. Dean will be able to make great deals that way. He's got the quality, and add exclusivity to it, and you'd have people begging him to take their money. Dean will—"

A door slammed and interrupted them. Castiel and Ellen. Gabriel turned around to greet them, wanting to praise Castiel for doing such a wonderful job with the brewery. Gabriel wasn't in doubt that Castiel would carry out the plans to perfection, he was as diligent as Dean, so clearly everything was exactly as it should be, better, even.

"Castiel!" MacLeod sounded quite enthusiastic at the sight of Cas. "Just in time. We have the first batch up and running, so in three weeks, Dean will have beautiful, beautiful ale to serve."

"Hi, Cas!" Gabriel raised a hand in greeting. The hellhound performed an interpretative dance expressing the immense loss it had felt, being away from Castiel for half a day. Or possibly from the treats that Cas slipped it when he thought he wasn't being watched. Gabriel considered whether he should actually name the canine traitor 'Judas', although it was cheap in comparison. For sale for a biscuit. It was embarrassing. Well, Gabriel would get to it one day, finding a name for the four-legged menace.

"Hello, Mr MacLeod," Castiel said politely, looking around at the shiny equipment. "So everything is done down here?"

"Everything is in order, everything we talked about is finished and running. I keep my promises, sweetheart."

Someone's phone rang and a hard rock tune filled the room, the tinny sound echoing slightly between the tanks. 

"Highway to Hell?" Gabriel laughed. "Why not?"

"Moment, please." MacLeod pulled a phone out from the inner depths of his jacket. He looked at the display and stepped away.

"Balthazar? What do you want?" MacLeod hissed into the phone. "I'm busy!"

There was a pause. Gabriel could hear the faint sound of someone talking at the other end of the line. It had to be loud. Surely the Balthazar that MacLeod talked with didn't take it lightly, being hissed at. 

MacLeod suddenly sounded baffled. "Really? He said that?" he asked the man in the phone. "And they could actually look him up? Just like that? Remarkable lack of, well, anything resembling a brain. Still. Yes... yes. Of course. No, we can't risk it. I'll tell them. No, I suppose not. Do we need people down in Legal to get their sweet little heads out of the arses? Or let me take a look at it, not their arses, no, I cannot possibly express in words how not interested I am in those. You know I'm good with contracts. I could probably come up with—" MacLeod paused before he continued, this time curt and to the point as if the person on the phone had told him exactly what needed to be done. "Fine. Yes. Tomorrow. Sure." 

At the mention of risks and legal assistance, Gabriel looked at Cas. He looked exactly as clueless as Gabriel felt. If anything happened that jeopardized the production of the most important episode of Gabriel's _life_ , he was going to raise hell. If anybody dared threaten Sam or Dean or his beloved little brother and the heaven they were looking forward to, Gabriel would raise hell. 

Gabriel was about to say something when Castiel held up a hand. "Wait," he urged, as if he knew he had to stop Gabriel from doing something rash.

Oh, he'd do something rash. He'd do something rash, all right, if MacLeod didn't put the phone down right the fuck now and explained to them how close on its journey to hell the handbasket was already. 

MacLeod put his phone away, meeting Gabriel's eyes with a cold stare that revealed nothing. "Bollocks. Yes?"

Gabriel's mirrored MacLeod's expression. He stared back just as coldly. "Yes."

It took a while before MacLeod looked away for an instant, barely a flicker of his eyes. Gabriel nodded. "So." If MacLeod thought he could play games with him or anything that involved The House Angel, Gabriel would make sure he'd realize how sorely mistaken he'd been.

"Our CEO. Balthazar Freely."

Gabriel didn't say anything. He waited. He didn't look away when Castiel shuffled his feet next to him, whispering something to Ellen Harvelle, neither did he look away when the hellhound ran barking towards the door. He simply crossed his arms and waited 

MacLeod raised an eyebrow. "They told me you were a tough motherfucker. I didn't believe them, but they were right."

Yeah, _they_ were. Nobody fucked with Gabriel's show, or with Gabriel's boyfriend or with Gabriel's boyfriend's brother or Gabriel's boyfriend's brother's boyfriend. Or with their brewery. Gabriel was fiercely protective of the show and of people he loved. Having this small extended family, however new, made it worse. "Try me," he said, attempting not to sound encouraging. "I assure you you won't like the outcome. I know people in construction."

Like that, the dominance display was over. "We had an _anonymous_ ," MacLeod air-quoted the word, "call from someone called Steve Bacic. Not exactly a pro with a mobile phone. He forgot to tell his iPhone not to tell us his number. He threatened to out Dean and my boy Castiel to the press. Unfortunately the call went through to our CEO for some reason. He is not pleased. He's taking action immediately. We have the reputation of the company to consider."

"Well, that breeds confidence," Gabriel said, his eyes narrow with anger. Right that instant the entire episode was dangling by a thread, he was sure. If Guinness backed out of the show because of some asshole CEO's internalized homophobia, Gabriel wasn't going to take it lying down. The consequences for Dean, his deal with MacLeod and use of the Guinness brand next to his own name... Dean would be so disappointed. Castiel wouldn't be happy, either. Taking a deep breath to calm himself as not to act violently and cause irreparable damage to MacLeod and the show, Gabriel decided to hear the man out. "And when can I talk to that Mr Freely of yours? Before or after I deal with Steve Bacic?" Gabriel was sure he could ask Ellen to help him hide the body. Ellen had the shovel to do the job, and judging from the expression on her face, no qualms to actually use it .

"Tomorrow," MacLeod said. "Balthazar had his secretary book a flight just now. He's going to be here early tomorrow morning. He's going to take care of the problem himself."


	13. Mirror, Mirror

It was late before Gabriel was able to slip out. He still felt as if he was cheating, mostly because he was. It didn't bother him as much as other people would think it should. He turned the key ring around his finger as he walked down the street to the stupid car he'd fallen in love with. He loved its ugly mug. Dodge had really done their worst in 1970. And Gabriel would probably have to marry Sam to get his hands on the mango monster in an official capacity, and he was fine with that. Best bonus ever. Sam would go well with the back seat, naked and willing. Except there would be no naked and willing Sam before they had discussed the Guinness-situation. 

Gabriel patted the Dodge on the roof, waiting until the hellhound had settled in the passenger seat before he slid into the driver's seat. He just sat there for minute without doing anything but think, distractedly scratching the hellhound behind the ears.

The conversation with Sam wasn't particularly a conversation that Gabriel was looking forward to. Explaining that they had trouble coming their way wasn't exactly Gabriel's idea of a great evening. He was eager to see Sam, though; it had been more than fifteen hours since he left him, naked and satisfied and worn out, which was a decidedly pleasant thought. Still, there was no way Gabriel was leaving Sam uninformed about the problem with Dr Not-at-all-sexy, or about the reaction from Guinness's CEO. Not that Gabriel had much to tell. He wished he'd been less baffled and considerably more assertive while dealing with MacLeod, but it was too late to change that now.

Annoyed with himself, Gabriel turned the ignition and pulled the car into the empty street.

Gabriel had lied to Sam once since it was for the good of Sam and the show. Leaving him out now was to leave him blindsided, unable to be ready to stand by Dean if he needed it. Gabriel was never going to lie to Sam again.

About anything.

He put the pedal down, letting himself enjoy the roar of the engine and the hard kick when the orange Dodge accelerated out of the steep curve. The streets were quiet and Gabriel let the car go, as if his frustration was allowed an outlet with the speed. If Sam truly insisted on driving the Charger, Gabriel would have to get Bobby to find him another one. It was a case of 'can't beat them, join them', and Gabriel was willing to admit that he might have underestimated the value of a decent classic car, seeing that the only one he'd seen was the pile of junk that Castiel was driving.

Gabriel parked the car behind the hotel, hiding the Dodge from Sam. It was his car after all, until Gabriel could get him to admit that he'd rather have the streamlined brand new Dodge that Lucifer had gotten from his friend at GM.

"You know, I'd much rather have been planning how to play with my boy in bed," he told the hellhound who had taken to the backseat for a nap. The hellhound merely snorted derogatorily as if it didn't care about Gabriel's woes. Sam on the other hand, would care very much. They had to make plans, figure out what to do for Dean, how to angle the show if they had to cut the part about Dean entirely. Plus, there was no way Gabriel was pulling the plug on the build site; they had to finish Sam's house, _their_ house, and everything else The House Angel had promised the Winchesters. Except for the stuff that Guinness was involved in, obviously. If they insisted on being assholes. After that, Gabriel would personally wring the necks of Steve, MacLeod and the CEO, Baltha- whatever his name was, and everybody else who tried to hurt his man.

Right now was more important to speak with Sam and find out what they could to to lessen the blow for Dean. Luckily, if the network pulled out too, Gabriel had money enough to pay for anything that could help Dean on his way to become the renowned masterbrewer he was destined to be, and Gabriel most certainly intended to take on that expense if needed.

Until they had come to a solution, there would be no naked Sam. Hell, Gabriel wasn't even sure he wanted it; the happiness of his boys and his new family was so much more important than sex. Sex wasn't why he had fallen in love with Sam. Three months, courting his beloved Sammy on the internet proved that.

\- 0 -

The hellhound bounced happily down the corridor to Sam's room, entirely unaware of the drama. It stopped outside Sam's suite, as if it had his scent marked already. It probably had; the dog was one tiny bundle of possessive entitlement when it came to humans. And Sam had given it a belly rub once, which meant that the hellhound would love Sam forever.

Clearly, it was mutual. "Oh! Dog!" Sam's face lit up as he opened the door and saw the hellhound in Gabriel's arms. "Gimme!"

The hellhound wagged its entire body and Gabriel gave up, handing over the dog to Sam. It made a futile attempt to lick Sam in the face.

"No kissing," Sam chuckled, as he held the dog in his hands, safe distance from his mouth. "Not from you at least."

"My presence is purely ornamental, I take it, as it fades entirely in the shining light of the universe's most important creature?" Gabriel couldn't help laughing. His tiny dog and his gigantic boyfriend certainly were a pair. Fuck, how he loved them. Okay, the hellhound in quite a different way, but Gabriel really was very fond of the critter. "Discarded in favor of my dog. What did I do to sink so low?"

The hellhound was done doing its semi-airborne dance of joy and Sam put it down. It ran into the room to sniffle at the furniture and Sam continued looking at it for a few seconds. "You made the mistake to take the hellhound with you. I think I always wanted a dog. Never got the time or the money or the right place for it."

"Until now. You have the right place and the money, now you just need the dog."

"About that." Sam smiled, and Gabriel melted, unable to speak, caught up in the warmth of the smile that was only for him.

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering—"

"I can get you a dog," Gabriel offered. A much better subject than annoying Irish brew masters, much better. Sam could have a dog, or rather they could talk about how Gabriel would find the right dog for him, and then they could talk about MacLeod later.

"I was more, like, wondering if you'd... share?"

"Share the hellhound?" Gabriel looked at his cunning and deceiving little dog who had already found a comfortable chair to lie in. "Like joint custody?" He wasn't sure where the conversation was going. Sam had an agenda, only Gabriel had yet to find out what it was. He frowned slightly. He'd share anything he owned with Sam. Including the hellhound, if that was what Sam wanted. "How—"

"I think it'd be easier if we, erm, if you..." Sam hesitated and, oh God, Gabriel could see it in his eyes what he wanted. 

Gabriel's heart stopped for a few heartbeats. "If we shared a place. For the sake of our dog, right?" Gabriel took a step, stopped, then another. "Sam?"

"It's a big house you're building, I understand?" Sam bit his lip, insecure.

"That it is. Afraid there are monsters hiding under the beds? I could help you with those." Gabriel felt happiness spread in his veins like a fast disease, removing his ability to do anything but to stare adoringly at his lover.

"If there's anything underneath the bed, that would be the hellhound. So... Gabriel?"

"Anything you want, kiddo. _Anything_. Anywhere you want it, I'm all yours." Gabriel raised a hand and stroked Sam's cheek tenderly. "There is nothing in the world I'd rather do than to live with you. For the sake of the hellhound, of course."

"You think we're doing this too fast?" Sam tilted his head into the touch. "And I want it too. As much as you do. But... too fast?"

"Yes. Definitely. Luckily. I don't have the patience to be sensible. And we _have_ known each other for three months. Also, I'm so in love with you that I don't care." 

"Thank God." Sam's smile made the sun look like the weak flicker of a dying candle. "Because I'm not sure I could stand leaving you again. Or the other way around."

Then Sam was in Gabriel's arms and it took a while before he let go because there were kisses that needed to be exchanged and shared and tasted. Somehow it felt like a miracle, that he was here, with Sam kissing him, pliant lips and pliant body, long limbs wrapped around Gabriel's shorter ones. Gabriel was carried away, hands under Sam's shirt, and Sam's big hands were on his ass, pressing them close together, close enough for Gabriel to feel Sam hardening against his own erection. 

"We need to talk first." Gabriel forced his brain to work. "Sam." With a hand on Sam's shoulder, Gabriel broke their tight embrace. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

"Talk? Are you breaking up with me so soon?" Sam asked, the serious mood lurking just beneath his shining eyes. "You're serious?"

"Yeah. Nothing to do with you and me. I'll break up with you when hell freezes over, baby, and probably not even then. It's about Dean." 

"Dean?" Sam's expression changed from blissful to worried in a second.

Gabriel took Sam's hand and pulled him across the room. Sam followed him, asking no questions. "I'll get us a drink."

"That bad?" Sam' hand fluttered nervously in his and Gabriel squeezed it, a small wordless reassurance that they'd be all right.

"Yes and no. I mean, he's fine. You talked to him today, right?" Gabriel deposited Sam on the couch and went to dig out two small bottles of whiskey from the hotel's honor bar. He held them up for Sam to accept. 

Sam nodded. "Looks okay to me. On the rocks, or off them, because I don't think there's any ice left. And yeah, I talked to him. All _he_ talked about was your brother, who according to Dean is _awesome, hot_ , and something in the direction of _I think I'm gay for him, Sammy_ , yet convoluted because Dean doesn't talk about emotions. But we knew that already. About Dean, I mean." Sam reached for the glass that Gabriel handed him. "So what's the problem? Nothing we can't solve, right?"

That Sam included himself in the problem-solving didn't elude Gabriel's attention. He sat down next to Sam, an arm around his shoulder. "Of course it can be solved. I mean. I don't know. It depends." Gabriel knew they had to find a way to make things right for Dean, but so many factors had to be taken into consideration. He didn't know where to begin.

Sam showed how much on accord they were already. "From the beginning," Sam said as if he knew exactly what Gabriel was thinking. "And don't even think about leaving anything out."

God, they were made for each other! Sam was everything that Gabriel could have wished for, even in his wildest dreams. "Steve Bacic, the guy who is Dr Sexy... He was hitting on Castiel at a party years ago. Cas flipped him off, and Stevie didn't take it well. Anna—that's our sister—is Steve's publicist, and through her Castiel invited Steve here to please Dean — we usually invite celebrities to meet our participants, as you know. I guess Dean told you? About his run-in with Bacic?" Gabriel paused, taking a sip of his drink before he continued. Sam was a good listener and kept quiet, waiting for Gabriel to finish. "Steve... the guy really has the mental capacity of a piece of shit, and not much more than that, so he decided that he wanted to get back on Cassie. And Dean, I guess, because Dean made fun of him when Steve tried to get to Cas. Steve found the mental power to type long enough on his phone to reach Guinness Ireland, and now he's tattled about Dean's sexuality, maybe from some absurd notion that everybody in the Republic of Ireland are Catholics, and that all Catholics are biased homophobes. I don't know what he thought, the man is a clusterfuck of stupid. Anyway, Guinness is thoroughly informed about Dean's preference for dick, and about his relationship with Cas. Steve was nice enough to spill everything to some guy named Balthazar which turned out to be the CEO of the entire business. He was not pleased."

Sam's mouth became narrow and tense. "So Dr Sexy is gay, and he thinks it's fine to out other people against their will?" Sam poured down the entire drink. Gabriel didn't begrudge him. "What did this Balthazar say?"

"I didn't speak with him. I was at the brewery when he called MacLeod."

"So that's all you know? That CEO Balthazar, last name unknown, was less than satisfied with _it_? Whatever _it_ might be."

"Yes. I don't know what Bacic demanded, but if Balthazar doesn't like it, they might ask us to pull the part about Dean, or they're asking MacLeod to step back and retract the offers they made. And we might anyway, to protect Dean. I mean, Cas... he's not really out, but he's definitely not _in_ , either; he's going to be fine if Bacic spills. Dean, on the other hand..."

"Dean is obviously not homophobic, Gabe. If someone threatens Cas, I'd be really worried if I was the one doing the threatening. Dean is not a pleasant person if people try to hurt his friends, and I doubt he's going to be any more gentle with anyone threatening his boyfriend. No one should be forced out, and I'm not even sure where he is with Cas; I mean, it's not like us, they haven't even known each other for a week. Of course they shouldn't be forced to admit anything, even if it's as innocent as 'yes, we're seeing each other'."

Gabriel nodded. "Judging from how they stop and stare in each others' baby blues, or green in Dean's case, they are heading towards the _or forever hold your peace_ , and from what Cas says, they're moving fast. Still, this Balthy-guy is not going to decide what Cassie and Dean are or aren't going to do. I am going to speak with my boss. I do not take it lightly when people try to fuck with my show, but I'm even more annoyed when they try to fuck over my boyfriend and his brother. It is not happening. No matter the cost." Gabriel was working up a rage, he was turning cold with it, tense and restless.

"But is he? Going to fuck with the show?"

"Yeh-ar." Gabriel dragged out the word, his brain going the last part of the way it hadn't managed earlier. The question made Gabriel calm down. "To be honest, I'm not sure what he didn't like about it, I just assumed..."

"What did he _say_ , Gabriel? Did he threaten to pull Guinness's offer?"

Gabriel could feel his cheeks heat up. That's what he got from dating a lawyer-to-be. Sam was so damned clever. "MacLeod spoke to him. I only know what MacLeod told me, and that is that Balthazar was flying out so that he could be here early tomorrow. And that he wasn't pleased."

Sam shuffled closer, nuzzling Gabriel's ear, kissing him on the neck. "You have no idea what Balthazar is going to say, and yet you are willing to sacrifice yourself for two brothers you just met? Without knowing precisely why, or what the consequences will be? You are actually going to put your job at stake here?"

Gabriel groaned; Sam's lips were soft and the feeling of the damp heat on his skin was distracting. "Yeah. I would. I am." He turned his head and looked Sam in the eye. "You have no idea how in love I am with you."

"I think I begin to understand, yes," Sam said and moved close, his arm around Gabriel's waist. "And you really think I'd want you if you were unemployed and poor?" He nibbled at Gabriel's earlobe, and Gabriel sighed, letting Sam push him down on the couch. "Don't do anything rash before you've discussed the matter with Balthazar. Promise me?"

"I promise. And you couldn't go through another day without my bewitching presence, kiddo. I'm your addiction," Gabriel teased, certain that it was true. He was addicted to Sam, and Sam had showed no signs of being less inclined to want Gabriel as much as Gabriel wanted him. They were addicted to each other, and it was an addiction that Gabriel wished he'd never be cured of. "You'd miss my charm." 

"Or your modest, quiet behavior," Sam said and pulled at Gabriel's t-shirt. "Should I call Dean and talk to him, or should we do the sensible thing and speak with your best pal Balthy tomorrow—what kind of name is that anyway—before we cry wolf and ruin Dean's night with Cas? You better decide quickly, before I strip you and ravish you."

Of course Sam would have a sensible plan. "Ravish first, talk tomorrow," Gabriel decided, pushing his hands into Sam's back pockets so that he could squeeze Sam's delightfully firm ass. If Sam wanted him here and now, there was no reason to stir things up. Sam was sensible: there really wasn't anything they could do right now, not before they had talked to the CEO. Short of going to the brewery and bug MacLeod for more info, they had to wait until Balthazar arrived. Plus, they couldn't afford to alienate MacLeod since they wanted him on their side. Better to let sleeping hellhounds lie. In more ways than one.

"Wait." Gabriel put his hands on Sam's chest, and he lost himself for a moment, spreading his fingers on the wide expanse of the utterly sexy shoulders above him. "I want you. But I was serious, Sam. If anyone threatens Dean or tries to turn MacLeod and his boss against us, I am not holding back. I'll wait patiently for an explanation, and if I don't like it, then I'm not keeping the gloves on. I mean it when I say that Balthazar should reconsider going against me, and in this case he should certainly reconsider going against Castiel. He's a nerdy little guy, but woe for those who try to hurt the ones he loves. If push comes to shove, we are probably both ready to lose our jobs over this. It's a question of principles."

"You don't have to do tha—"

Gabriel put a finger on Sam's lips. "Yes, I do. I'm in love with you, Sam, and I really, really like Dean. Nobody fucks with my family."

Sam nodded, his eyes puppy-soft. "I do love you. And I'm truly grateful for what you are doing for us." Sam's eyes glittered, not from tears. "You done," he asked Gabriel, "because you just made my patience run out and it gets me hot when you get bossy."

"Hell yes! I am very, very done!" Gabriel nodded eagerly and let Sam take what he wanted. What they both wanted.

\- 0 -

"No, sure, of course not. I didn't think that... No. No, there is nothing you can do, short of hiring a killer to get rid of him, and I wouldn't want you to lose the right to rip off your dollar tree on a daily basis. And please do," Castiel added. He waited until Anna's anger had dissipated. "Thanks, Anna. I really appreciate it."

He broke the connection. He had not for a moment thought that Anna had anything to do with Steve's interference. She disliked Steve as much as he did, and she had not become the sought-after publicist she was by gossiping. Anna could keep a secret. Then again, the way Dean had torn into Steve, there had been nothing secret about Dean being attracted to another man. All Steve had needed to come up with his petty revenge was to go charm one of the volunteers to find out what was going on over at Dean's lot, so that he could ruin what he was able to ruin. Castiel hadn't thought that Steve had the mental capacity to do anything but to look sexy and flash a different pair of cowboy boots every week on daytime television. He'd been wrong. Unfortunately. Steve was a petty little demon, and if it was the last thing he did, Castiel would make sure that Steve would come to regret severely that he had threatened Dean's happiness.

When it came to Dean, Castiel had a problem. He wasn't a liar—he hated lies. Not that he intended to lie to Dean, not more than he'd done already, hiding from him that The House Angel had already upended his apartment and his business. No, Castiel wasn't lying as such, it was more... lying by omission. For now he couldn't tell Dean the full extent of The House Angel's plan for him. Castiel decided that he would tell Dean as much as possible without revealing the construction work that had been going on at Dean's apartment and at the brewery. But Dean needed to be ready for the implosion that would happen when Balthazar arrived. Implosion, because Castiel could see their big plans, all of them, cave in and turn to nothing under the weight of rampaging CEOs. They had their network bosses to consider too, not just Balthazar. On the bottom line, their jobs were at stake. Castiel was willing to go that far for Dean.

Castiel had seen it before, the bias and the gay-by-association idiocy. He wasn't as experienced in handling these matters as Gabriel were— Gabriel had been dealing with deeply homophobic contractors, engineers, carpenters, volunteers and every other kind of biased, same-sex-couple-hating assbutts since... forever, and he was good at it, good at defusing the situation and make hyper-masculine men calm down, leading them on the first steps on their way to see their own limited and unreasonable world view. Castiel had had his share of them, not as many as Gabriel, though. Some were like this Balthazar-guy, supposedly believing that it rubbed off on them, being on the same _globe_ as queer people. People like him were just not openly hostile about it, maybe thinking that a cultured surface was enough to make them look unbiased. 

At least the CEO hadn't pulled the support immediately, so maybe there was hope that Guinness would keep their part of the bargain. Castiel was relieved that the refurbishment of Dean's brewery was done, all brew tanks and hardware in place, a batch of beer up and running. Nothing or no one could take that away from Dean. And Dean had still been acknowledged by MacLeod. Even if MacLeod turned out to be hostile towards them, nothing could change that Dean had been recognized and praised by one of the world's most famous brew masters.

MacLeod might withdraw the offers he'd made, refusing Dean the masterclasses and the cooperation and the use of Guinness's name right beside Dean's own, and Castiel needed to come up with a solution. Dean deserved education and opportunities to develop his talent, and Castiel would do whatever he needed to do to make it happen. If he had to pay for it himself, he'd do it. Dean would do the same for him, Castiel was sure. That was how Dean was, intensely loyal to the people he considered his family. MacLeod might not even have a choice. This Balthazar might have ordered him to cancel the cooperation with The House Angel.

Irritably, Castiel pulled his phone up, holding it in his hand for almost a full minute, trying to decide whether he needed to speak to MacLeod or not. He had liked the man, and although Castiel was bad at reading emotions, he hadn't been in doubt that MacLeod liked him as well. He could call and ask for an explanation, but it was late, and MacLeod knew precisely as much about the situation as Castiel did. Since Castiel had been listening to the conversation with the CEO, he didn't think that MacLeod had that much to add. Castiel looked at the phone, at the clock, and decided that a quarter past midnight was too late to call MacLeod anyway. There was nothing he could do now. MacLeod wasn't making the decisions, so calling him before they'd both had a chance to speak to the CEO would only serve to make MacLeod less than happy.

Instead Castiel decided to text Dean to find out what he was doing. They needed to talk as soon as possible. 

_Food! Make me food!_ Dean replied, informing Castiel that he was stuck for yet another twenty minutes, helping the builders with a few pieces of insulation that needed to be replaced.

Feeding Dean was a good plan. Yes, he would make some food for himself and Dean, then, when they had eaten Castiel could explain the problem, preparing Dean as well as possible for the catastrophe that loomed over them. He'd leave out the surprises that Dean didn't know about, _would_ never know about; there was no reason to make Dean feel worse by describing all the opportunities and chances he would never have. Anything that could be bought for money, Castiel could provide, but he could not force Guinness to give Dean the chance they'd promised him. Castiel let out a sigh. Dean had so much to lose. Even with their brand-new relationship, young and about as lanky and insecure as a day-old foal, Castiel wanted to do what he could to protect Dean. Sam as well, but Castiel knew that Gabriel had that covered. 

God, he regretted the day he'd met Steve; if Steve caused Dean any more harm, Castiel would _end_ him. He wasn't a violent person, but in Steve's case he was willing to make an exception. 

It was all Castiel's fault. He had invited Steve, knowing what kind of unpleasant little cockroach he was. Now it was up to Castiel to make it right.

Luckily the trailer was quiet; Meg had gone to bed early, and Castiel had seen Kali at the catering pavilion, eating a late dinner, chatting with the tired volunteers. Kali was brilliant. Castiel opened the small fridge and surveyed the content. He found a lasagna that looked fine and smelled even better; he could see some sun-dried tomatoes underneath the thick cover of grated mozzarella and Parmesan. The lasagna went into the oven and Castiel chopped up fresh tomatoes, onions and olives, making a quick salad with a handful of arugula. He smothered a few pieces of bread in olive oil and pesto and threw them in next to the lasagna to make them crispy.

Castiel piled plates and a few bottles of beer and Coke on a tray. Done and waiting for the lasagna to be ready, he looked at his watch. He could manage a quick shower before Dean was back, before the food was ready.

\- 0 -

"If I wasn't already sold on the idea of having you as my boyfriend, I'd be so in right now!" Dean sneaked an olive from the salad bowl. "Cas, you're a genius. When you are finished working, I am going to cook for you. My burgers are famous."

Castiel hummed, content, as he helped himself to a little more lasagna. He'd like Dean to cook for him too. It meant that he'd have more Dean. "Thank the nice people in catering. I only put it in the oven." 

"You are very good at that, then." Dean put his plate aside and sat back in the bed. "They really make a mean lasagna."

"They've worked for Gabriel from the beginning. They know he wants the best for the volunteers." Castiel took a bite, enjoying the blend of fresh vegetables, spicy tomato sauce and top quality meat and cheese. 

"He's a little shit, but he takes good care of the workers." Dean opened his jeans, just the button. "Damn, I am so full. I'm not moving until we need to get up tomorrow." He sent the empty plate a glance. "Okay, so I'll do the dishes, but apart from that I am so not moving. What time _do_ we need to get up, by the way?"

Now was as good a time as any. Basically because there was no such thing as a good time when it came to explaining to Dean that some of his plans might just have been shot down by a third-rate actor with a grudge. Castiel could feel the cold dread; he hoped that the problems and the threats didn't ruin anything between them. He trusted Dean, but there was a risk that Dean suddenly got so scared that he backed himself into the closet again at the threats of being outed in public. Castiel understood that only too well.

"Early," Castiel said. "We have a meeting at seven. We're in trouble." He swallowed, afraid to look at Dean. He did it anyway. "You and me both."

Dean paled. "In trouble? What do you mean? We've been very discreet. That's not what it's about, is it?" He shifted, moved closer and took Castiel's hand. Dean's fingers were warm and dry and gentle. "Tell me. If there's a problem we'll kill it. Together."

"We might need a little more diplomacy than that—unless you are willing to dig up the garden and dispose of a few bodies in it. I've heard it should be good for the roses, though," Castiel said, trying to make a little light of the serious situation. "Steve... Dr Sexy has pulled strings at Guinness. Their CEO is coming here, early tomorrow, to deal with the situation. We don't know yet what he'll do." Realizing that it wasn't much of an explanation, Castiel was about to say something more.

"Your Steve? That asshole? What is he doing with Guinness? And the MacLeod dude? Isn't he your buddy? I don't understand." 

"He is so far from 'mine' as can be," Castiel protested. "It's worse than just a concerned brew master and his CEO. CEOs we can handle. Usually. Steve threatened to..." Castiel hesitated, afraid what would happen when he told Dean exactly how much of an asshole Steve had been. "I don't know whether he did it to get back at me or you."

"Or both of us," Dean interjected. "He annoyed me. He's dumb as fuck, but he recognized a few insults when they landed smack in his face."

"He annoys everybody. But that doesn't mean that he has no influence. He threatened to out us—you and me—to the press if The House Angel doesn't stop the part about you, going to Ireland and your cooperation with Guinness. No idea where he got the info, but I'm sure it's not from Anna. I spoke to her, and she would never lie to me. And Gabriel ha—" Castiel suddenly noticed the crestfallen expression on Dean's face. He shut his mouth, somehow awaiting an outburst that never came. Dean sat, frozen, as the seconds ticked by. 

Then Dean's eyes glittered with amusement, more surprisingly, and not with anger. And Dean laughed. He laughed until he cried and had to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand. "You were afraid that I'd back out, weren't you?" Dean said when he was able to breathe again. 

"I—" Cas said, knowing that he didn't really need to explain. Dean understood him so well. "I don't understand why you find it so funny. But yes. I might. And then again, no. I wasn't truly afraid that you'd break up, but maybe unsure whether you wanted to be out in public."

Dean got up on his knees, taking Castiel's hand in his. He looked like knight, filled with righteous fury, ready to go to war. Castiel liked it. Dean was beautiful, always, but there and then, he was amazing. "No. I am not backing anywhere," Dean said, his voice as hard and determined as his look. "If I ever see Steve again, I _am_ going to punch him for causing you distress. Call CNN, call New York Times, call any gossip rag in the entire country, whatever, I don't fucking care. How stupid does he think I am? He thinks I'm going to disown and deny you before the rooster crows three times, or something? I don't give a fuck about Guinness... no, actually I do, but not the way I give a fuck about you, baby!"

"But—" Castiel felt as if he was surrounded by Dean's warmth, protected and cared for. This Dean was not one to argue with, this warrior, burning with the flame of indignant anger.

"Gabriel is taking care of it, right? His boss knows he's totally gay, and they know that you are, too, so what's the problem? They all know you like it in the ass and that your brother does too, and it was never a problem. Not with them, not with the viewers." Dean squinted at the clock. "Maybe I should call Sam? No. He's in bed, and probably with Gabriel, and since we're talking about liking it in the ass, I guess I'm not gonna call him as long as I am not a gazillion percent sure that Gabriel is elsewhere." Dean calmed down a bit at the thought. "Maybe we should go to sleep now? So that we can be clear-headed and ready for tomorrow?"

"But," Castiel repeated, slightly out of sync with... all of it. The only thing he could think of was that Dean was fine, Dean didn't care, Dean was out, out, out and he was out with Castiel, if he wanted them to be out together. "But—" 

"Oh, the dishes. Yeah." Dean grabbed their empty plates and piled them on the tray. He was gone before Castiel could stop him. Trying to get some sense of normality back in his life, Castiel got up and went into the tiny bathroom to brush his teeth. His face in the mirror was still tense and surprised. Could it really be that easy? Was Dean truly fine with it all? Castiel stared at his own baffled face in the mirror as he brushed on, all by habit. Finally he spat out the toothpaste and straightened up, wiping his mouth. 

Dean was standing behind him, his face in the shadows. His eyes were dark in the dim light. There was a deep seriousness to the way he looked. "I meant it, Cas. I'm in if we're out."

"You do know we'll be in the rags and all over the internet before the end of the week." Castiel met Dean's eyes in the mirror. "And everybody is going to have an opinion on it. Are you _sure_ , Dean? I understand if it's too much. If you want—" Castiel didn't want to say the words, nor did he want Dean to break up almost before he'd had a taste of what it was to have a relationship. Castiel didn't want him to break up at all.

"And you'll be next to me, and people are going talk, and I'm going to show them how many fucks I don't give. And if they buy my gay beer and look at my gay ass, I don't give a fuck, either. And I don't care that people don't understand that I liked girls before and I still like them, but I want you, and just you. If anybody has a problem with that, it's their problem." Dean leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Castiel's cheek, one hand stroking his hip, letting it fall to rest there. "As long as you don't have a problem with any of it, I don't either."

"It's a lot to take in." Castiel felt as if he was caught in some kind of time-delay that had his perception trailing after Dean's words like a tired puppy after its mommy.

Dean made a face, eyes rolling. "Yeah, and you know what? When I'm in, I'm in. I'm in love, so stop it, Cas, with the worrying. I'm fine. Sammy and me... we've never been exactly normal, and we're not starting now. You in or not? All the way?" Dean stepped up close, making it impossible to move in the small space. He put his arms around Castiel's waist, resting his chin on Castiel's shoulder. "We better hit the front page or I'll be disappointed."

Dean's chest was warm and Castiel leaned back, reaching for Dean's hands. He stroked Dean's fingers, playing with them, still watching him in the mirror. "You really want this?"

"Yes, Cas. Yes, yes, _yes_!" Dean snorted, halfway amused. "And no. Of course I don't want to be all over the internet, but if that's how it's gonna be, I'll manage, because I'm not going anywhere. You're it for me, Cas, it's as simple as that." Dean wound his arms tight around Castiel's waist. "Look, baby, I want you to come back here, to Lawrence, to me, maybe... I know it isn't what you're used to, and my apartment is crap, and there will barely room enough for us, even with Sam gone. Or we could... maybe I could move if... I'd like to go with you if you want me to, but Sam is here, and Gabriel, if I'm not mistaken. And if it isn't entirely ruined by now, I do have a running business as well." Dean didn't look as if he believed that for a moment. "Maybe we—"

Castiel was staring at Dean in the mirror, eyes the size of teacups, mouth slightly open. Ever so slowly reality caught up with Castiel's muddled brain. Dean wanted.... everything. It wasn't even _maybe_ , a possibility, something hypothetical. It was a fact, here, now, that Dean wanted a life with him, the two of them together, despite the risks. It was insane.

Only then Did Dean realize the impact that his jumbled suggestions had on Castiel. "Fuck, I'm sorry, sweetheart, I—" He let go and pulled Castiel around. He followed willingly, more than willingly. "Sometimes I act before I think. It's just that I want you so damned much. It's a serious thing to—"

Dean's voice faded out and Castiel just stared for a second at the man he had fallen in love with before he suddenly moved, tension and want and happiness needing an outlet, pushing Dean up against the only free wall, his back hitting it so hard that the shower head took a dive for the floor, spraying them both with a few leftover drops of cold water. 

Dean made a strained, "Ow!" as he grabbed Castiel's shoulder to keep his balance. "Cas!"

Castiel stared at Dean, one arm around his neck, with the other pressing his free arm up against the wall. Cas stared at Dean's lips, then into his eyes, and all he could think of was how much he _wanted_ precisely what Dean offered him. All of it. Not just the sex and the incredibly hot boyfriend, but the tenderness and the family and the city and even the tiny, moldy apartment that Dean was willing to share, despite the state of it. Obviously Dean didn't know what Castiel's team had been doing to it, making it the perfect place for them to live, and it touched Castiel that one who had so little was willing to share so much. Besides, Castiel would take Dean with or without the apartment; it didn't matter whether he was rich or poor. It was Dean. Castiel simply wanted what they had, here and now, one heart beating in perfect sync with the other. 

Dean got a hand free and pulled Castiel tight. "Baby?"

"You'll need a bigger bed."

Dean's grin was warm and wide and a little relieved. "I'll get us one."

"Good," Castiel said, ignoring that he was almost lying now since there was no reason to swap the luxurious king that awaited them in Dean's new and improved bedroom. "Good." Then he decided that there had been enough talk, and he didn't let Dean speak for a while. His lips was itching from Dean's scruff, and Dean's breath tasted of tomatoes and cheese. The floor was cold, and the air was too hot, but it was the most perfect kiss Castiel had ever had. Oh, it was good. Slow and gentle and deep and then not so gentle. Dean gave as good as he got, tongue deep in Castiel's mouth as they pressed against each other. Cas gasped for air, his foot catching in the shower hose, and Dean had to move, maybe because the faucet was digging into his back. And none of it mattered. Only Dean's warmth mattered, and the way his hands moved down Castiel's body, searching and exploring. Fumbling like teenagers, mostly because neither wanted to stop kissing, they got out of their clothes. They were discarded on the tiles, a small island to stand on, warmer than the cold floor. 

In the dim light from the bedroom Castiel found condoms and a bottle of lube in the bathroom cabinet, trying to hold on to Dean as he got it out. It led to more fumbling, and still it was good, so good. With Dean's hard body naked and strong and flush against his own, Castiel wasn't complaining. And Dean pushed him the few free inches, his back aligning with the wall. With his mouth on Dean's lips, Castiel did some more fumbling. It was greasy and strawberry-smelling, and then Castiel was lifted up, hitting his right knee on the faucet on the way. And oh, yes, yes, Dean slid into him, ever so slowly.

"Cas," Dean whispered, not a moan, more like a prayer, in Castiel's ear. "Oh, damn." 

Fingers dug into Castiel's skin; Dean was clutching at his ass as he moved, gentle, hesitant at first, then faster, until Castiel made a similar whispering moan and forced himself to concentrate on relaxing enough to let Dean move. "It's been some time," he said, using Dean's neck to pull him closer, watching in the weak light how Dean's face contracted in pleasure. Castiel's cock was rubbing over Dean's stomach, pressed between them, and Castiel was sure he couldn't last. There was only so much he could take and they both needed relief. He clenched around Dean, almost gleefully satisfied with the control he had over Dean's futile attempt to hold back. "We have time later," Castiel said, the sentence broken up by little moans, book-ending each word. "When we have our own bed, I'll show you exactly how long I can make you last."

Dean made a choking sound and thrust in deep, making Castiel cry out. "You'll _make_ me?"

Castiel couldn't help it but pulled Dean's head back a little by the hair, yanked it hard enough to underline that he wasn't joking. "Yes, Dean. Make you."

"Oh _fuck_ yes," Dean moaned, and slammed Castiel back on the wall hard, thrusting into him almost as violently, coming before Castiel had a chance to recover. Five or six more thrusts and Castiel was done for and he came, his semen smeared over both of them as Dean took him fast and hard, a few more snaps of his hips before Dean too was finished.

Still gasping for air, they kissed until Dean softened and slipped out. They kissed some more, hungry for it, until their lips were sore and Castiel's come was dripping down Dean's thighs. Castiel winced at the sensation of strawberry lube leaking from his ass and semen slipping down his front.

Dean sensed his discomfort and pawed at the faucet and turned on the shower. A fountain of cold water hit them from beneath.

"Shit!" Dean grabbed the hose and got a hold of the shower head. 

Castiel couldn't stop himself from laughing, but managed to turn the handle to get hot water instead of the icy shower that was raining down their legs. 

It was the worst lovemaking Castiel had ever experienced, and by far the best, perfect in its clumsy imperfection.

"I won," Dean said and held up the hose. He put the shower back in the holder. "Now can I have my reward?" he asked, pulling Castiel into his arms. 

Of course he could. It took a bit longer than Castiel expected, but at least they were unhurt, clean and ready for bed when they were done.

Castiel was naked under the covers when Dean slipped under them, smelling of expensive shower gel and peppermint toothpaste. Somehow their wonderful and clumsy lovemaking had erased the last traces of doubt and awkwardness and Dean turned into Castiel's chest, resting there, hair still wet, drawing patterns on Castiel's stomach. The clock on the bedside table changed from 01:59 to 02:00 while Castiel watched the green numbers flicker. They had a long day tomorrow and they should go to sleep. Castiel didn't want to; he was in love and it was good and he would like to enjoy it, just a bit longer, before he fell asleep. Dean yawned like a kitten, and Castiel stroked his back gently. He hoped Dean felt as content as he did. Castiel felt extremely satisfied and happy, ready to take on whatever tomorrow would bring.

"Sure you aren't having second thoughts?" Castiel asked softly, just to make sure. "So much has happened this week."

Dean raised his head, then turned over so that he could look at Castiel. "I've had second thoughts, and third and fourth and fifth. And all of them told me that if I don't reach for what I have here right now, if I let you go, I'll come to regret it for the rest of my life. I told you, Cas. It's fast, it's unconventional, but I'm moving in with you as soon as possible, and I don't give a fuck what people think, not my brother or yours or Bobby or Ellen or the viewers or my bosses or MacLeod and his asshole CEO." Dean moved, throwing one arm possessively across Castiel's chest. "You're mine and I'm yours, if you want me. Like from this day forward and all that crap." 

"I do, Dean." Castiel stretched so that he could kiss Dean again, just a soft kiss. "I really, really do."


	14. Chapter 14

Castiel tried to ignore the infernal noise. He rolled over on his back, eyes still closed, and fumbled for his phone. The display flashed and Gabriel's name was blinking its warning. Squinting at the phone, Castiel closed his eyes again, patting at the phone, in the vain hope that he by accident shut it off so he could sleep for another half hour. 

"Cas, please?" Dean let out a discontent growl and grabbed the phone without looking at it. "Cas's phone. What do you want?"

"It could be anyone! Are you crazy?" Castiel gasped and pulled the phone out of Dean's hand, forgetting entirely for a second that Dean had given him permission to announce to the entire universe that they were together and intended to stay together.

"Don't be stupid," Dean said grabbing Castiel by the neck and before Castiel could do anything Dean was kissing him, sore lips tingling from the sudden touch. Castiel sighed and gave in for a second. Dean was irresistible. The thin sheet that had covered the both slid off Castiel's chest as Dean's hands slid over it, warm and calloused from work. Castiel forgot himself and the phone and made a small mewl, needing Dean so badly.

"Cassie!" Gabriel's voice was tinny and far away, the phone lying forgotten on the pillow. "Are you fucking? That is disgusting!"

Dean chuckled into the kiss and they broke apart, Castiel's lips slick and wet and tasting of Dean's morning breath. "It's not disgusting," Castiel said and grabbed the phone. "And we don't fuck, we make love. What do you want, Gabriel?"

"Oh, Dean is rubbing off on you! Or is he just rubbing you off? Who am I to stand in the way of a morning quickie? Not that Sam was particularly quick this morning; he likes to—"

"Gabriel, shut up."

"He _is_ rubbing off on you. Good for you, Cas." Gabriel sounded elated at the thought. Maybe he was right; adopting a bit of Dean's sass might not be bad. Especially not when one had to deal with annoying big brothers.

Dean stroked Castiel's back, distracting him. It didn't make it better when Dean seemed to have decided to kiss every spot on his back, starting at his neck. Castiel made another moan, louder this time, unable to fight the sensation of Dean's damp lips between his shoulder blades.

"You _are_ fucking. Oh my God, Castiel, you've turned into a real human being." Gabriel sounded gleeful and Castiel forced himself to move out of Dean's reach for the sake of his own sanity. 

"No we are not. And if we were, it would be none of your business." 

"You say that, and yet your moans still echo in my ear, reminding me that my little brother has become a man." Gabriel exclaimed with much drama, sniffling into the phone, making a show of it. "Anyway, kiddo, you need to get up and moving. Tell your boyfriend to leave you alone; it's serious business this beautiful morning. I got a call from MacLeod five minutes ago. Balthazar is here at seven, we meet with him at seven thirty. So up and at them, and let your pretty boy toy stay in bed; we can't risk that he finds out exactly what we've been doing over at his place."

Dean snaked his arm around Castiel's waist, and Castiel put his hand on Dean's, signalling that it had to wait. Not that he had any intention to let Dean advance any further when he was speaking with Gabriel, there were limits to what kind of ammunition Castiel was willing to hand over to his brother. Gabriel would use it against them for the next five thousand years.

"I understand. Meg and Kali?"

"Kali is coming with us and so is Sam," Gabriel said. "Sam is in on everything, except what's going on at his place, and we need him; he is after all the one who knows Dean best. If you could ask Dean to meet with Meg at our... at Sam's house at seven? That way we're sure that we have him occupied. And don't tell Dean that Sam's coming with us to meet with the Guinness guy. He'll find out soon enough when the police arrests me for punching the asshole CEO in the face."

"I'll ask him." Castiel nodded. "Moment." He knew he was supposed to say something, but instead he got caught up in the allure of Dean's lips. Before he could think, he was kissing Dean again. Dean's arms were around him, dragging him closer. Dean was hard. Castiel snaked one arm around Dean's neck, distractedly trying to keep the phone as far away from them without letting go. Dean's hair was soft as Castiel slid his fingers through it, opening his mouth to Dean's tongue. He made a content sound, letting Dean direct the kiss. 

"Castiel? Now you're annoying me!" Gabriel again, far away.

Castiel closed his mouth so fast he almost bit Dean. He made a small cough, slightly embarrassed. "Gabriel asks if you could help Meg in half an hour. We're moving in most of the furniture so that it's ready when Gabriel comes in to do the final touches and the last shots with the camera crews."

"You don't want me to come with you?" Dean looked almost hurt. "But we're going to tell those Irish bastards that they are not fucking with my family, any of it," Dean stated. "If it means war, then be it. And if there's going to be a war, then I'm going to be with you."

"To be precise it is one Irish bastard, and one Scottish ditto. And as we have no accounts of their ancestry and the official acknowledgement of their parents' relationship, both might be incorrect," Castiel argued, making Dean close his eyes and shake his head for some reason. "Was it something I said?"

Dean controlled himself. "No, please go on, Cas."

"Yes, it might mean war, or it might not. Like Guinness, we have a direction and a board we need on our side. It might be clever to tread very carefully. Gabriel and me... we can't stand up to a megacorp like Guinness. Not even with the network behind us."

"I didn't take you for a coward, Cas. Not you, not Gabriel."

"We're not. I am not. I will be very unpleasant to anyone who tries to hurt you or Sam. But promise me we're trying the peaceful way before we start a nuclear war. I'm sure the network has our backs, they always had, and we owe it to them to be at least remotely diplomatic. To begin with."

"All right. I promise." Dean deflated a bit, reaching out to stroke Castiel's cheek. "I just don't want to see you hurt."

"Thank you." Castiel let out a relieved breath; he'd held on to it for too long, tense and worried that Dean insisted coming with them. Castiel would have allowed him, surprise or no surprise. It was Dean's future they were discussing, his life. Their life. He smiled softly and gave in to the need to kiss Dean once more, even softer.

"Cassie, dammit!" Gabriel was shouting into the phone again. "What is wrong with you! Let go of Dean! Immediately!" 

"Yes." Castiel grabbed the phone again as he had mysteriously forgotten to hold on to it, a side effect of having his tongue in Dean's mouth. "Where?"

"We can't go to the lot. Sam isn't allowed to see the house. There is a cafe, Milton's, not too far from it. They serve breakfast. Be there at seven thirty."

\- 0 -

With his hand firmly wrapped around Sam's, Gabriel pushed open the door to the small cafe. The mouthwatering smell of coffee and bacon made Gabriel moan in pleasure. He was damned hungry; the morning's exercise with Sam had been both interesting and exhausting and he could do with a giant meal. The hellhound bounced in, running ahead of them, sure as always that the entire world existed only to fulfil its every whim.

At a table at the far end of the cafe, Kali and Castiel got up to greet them. Kali was always so damned correct, and Cassie was just a nice person. MacLeod, too, put his cup of coffee down, pushing his chair back. At least the man wasn't rude, not that Gabriel had thought he would be. Gabriel had met MacLeod only once, but Castiel had spoken highly of him. Which again showed that Castiel had the social skills of a dead pigeon. Then again, a lot of homophobic assholes were polite about it. In their own opinion.

"Gabriel." MacLeod held out his hand. "Nice to see you again." 

Gabriel held out his free hand. "Likewise. It'd been nicer if the situation had been different."

"There is that." Crowley gave Sam the once-over. "And you brought your own moose, I see. Didn't think they had them in Kansas." There was appreciation in MacLeod's eyes, enough of it to make Gabriel annoyed. Nobody looked at Sam like that! Except for him, of course.

"This is my boyfriend, Sam," Gabriel said, narrowly avoiding putting too much emphasis on the possessive pronoun. He didn't think that Sam would appreciate the notion that he was Gabriel's property. To think of it, Gabriel didn't appreciate it, either. He was Sam's and Sam was his, but not like that. "Sam Winchester. Dean's brother," Gabriel explained. "My dog you've already met."

"So 'nepotism' is Sam's middle name?" MacLeod laughed. "I could be wrong, of course, but isn't it a bit unethical, putting your family on the show?" He reached down to pat the hellhound on the head, continuing to pet it as it threw itself on the floor, exposing its belly. "I love dogs. We have two Irish wolfhounds at home, Growly and Juliet."

"I had never met Gabriel until we sent in the video to The House Angel." Sam stepped forward, looming threateningly over MacLeod. He appeared friendly, but the way his mouth turned narrow and tense showed Gabriel that MacLeod should be a bit cautious. Moose were dangerous animals after all. "And neither had Dean. Got a problem with that?"

"Calm down there, Moose. Of course I don't." MacLeod sent Gabriel an appreciative look, as if to say that he liked Sam's feisty attitude. MacLeod forgot about the hellhound and straightened up "Fast mover? I like a man who goes for what he wants and takes it. Anyway, you didn't come here to hear my appraisal of your relationship."

"Really?" Gabriel didn't leave out a healthy helping of sarcasm to go with the one word. "I'm so disappointed." MacLeod merely smiled. He reminded Gabriel of an angry pug, ready to go for the ankles. Maybe that was why the hellhound, the treacherous little shit, was so enamored with MacLeod. Kindred spirit. One day he had to teach the hellhound some manners.

"I suggest that we postpone the argument until Balthazar is here. If you still think there's an argument to be had, that is." MacLeod reached for two pieces of bacon. He didn't ask whether he could give the hellhound one, it was more a question of the hellhound being an amazing beggar that could teach the Devil one or two things about temptation and allure. It sent MacLeod the puppy-eyes. MacLeod let go of one piece without any fuss. "We should eat while this is still hot and crispy—the way I like it."

Gabriel didn't complain about the bacon and the hellhound. If the dog wanted bacon, Gabriel knew better than to deprive his beloved beast of the treat. The hellhound was too great a force to fight. Guinness and its CEO, on the other hand, were a piece of cake in comparison.

"Let's sit," Sam murmured. "He's right. Let's not make it worse than it already is."

Gabriel really shouldn't have brought his hot, sexy lawyer boyfriend because Sam was brilliant at bringing sense to the table. Seeing how MacLeod and the hellhound got along, he shouldn't have brought the hellhound, either. Sam had a calming effect and Gabriel didn't want to be calm. He knew he had to, as not to ruin too much. "Can't argue with that," he told MacLeod. "Soggy bacon is an abomination."

"When will Mr Freely be here?" Castiel asked. "He said seven thirty?"

"Any minute." MacLeod took another slice of bacon and bit off half of it, looking extraordinarily pleased with the taste. "He's not going to miss out on breakfast. He's intolerable if he doesn't get any."

It made Gabriel raise an eyebrow. MacLeod was either clueless or the master of innuendo. 

"Ah, there he is!" MacLeod put down the piece of back, getting up again. He smiled broadly, looking almost happy. His napkin fell on the floor without him noticing. "Balthazar."

A handsome man, almost arrogant in the way he strutted in, confident smile on his lips. Gabriel were about to greet him, but Balthazar seemed intent to ignore all of them. All but MacLeod. 

"Darling," Balthazar drawled, voice slow and purring. "God, I missed you so."

"What the—" Sam stared too, they all did, when Balthazar melted into MacLeod's arms, kissing him a bit more lovingly than strictly necessary. If kissing one's boss was necessary at all, that was. Gabriel was sure he saw tongue.

"What?" Balthazar asked when he finally let go of MacLeod. "You've never seen two men kiss before? I doubt it, present company considered." He smirked and slid down into the chair next to MacLeod. "I take it Fergus didn't tell you?" He reached for MacLeod's hand, stroking it, as if he really had missed him as much as he said. "He is such a devil; I'm sure he enjoyed tormenting you by letting you wonder what I'd do."

"No, unfortunately he left that part out." Castiel crossed his arms over his chest, sending MacLeod a dark glare. "Perhaps our worries would have been for naught if he had communicated out that particular bit."

Balthazar shook his head. "I know. My husband is horrible in that regard, not really a nice person. There are times I wonder what I'm doing with him. But it'd be a pity to get rid of him because he does have talents that really makes it worth all the trou—"

"Excuse me, my love," Crowley purred, interrupting Balthazar. "I was not being cruel; I would never do that to these lovely people. But just as my boy Castiel here don't owe anyone an explanation for his relationship with Dean, nor do we owe anyone to inform them of our relationship, one I must say, that I appreciate, despite your sanctimonious arrogance. Isn't that why we're here? So that that little turd, Steve, doesn't force Castiel and his Dean out in the open? Unless I'm mistaken, and we're actually gathered here only because it enables you to enjoy the pleasure of my splendid company."

"Please, someone, stop that oaf before I decide to return to the airport" Balthazar urged, obviously not at all inclined to let go of MacLeod. "Give me some coffee and some of that delightful breakfast. Pancakes, please. I am usually not handling anything before 9am, except coffee. And occasionally my husband, but that's quite another story. Which I am sure you are all anxiously awaiting to hear more about." Balthazar laughed and grabbed with his free hand the cup that Sam handed him.

"Thank you, handsome." Balthazar, in his own opinion clearly the center of the universe, downed half of the coffee immediately. He put the cup down. "And you'll look much better if you close your mouth, honey. I think that goes for all of you, by the way." He looked from Sam to Castiel to Kali. "Yes, yes. Carry on! I'm here to support you, not to withdraw the support of my company, if that was what you were afraid of. We are quite fond of diversity at Guinness, and we are proud to offer our help. We do not bow to blackmail under any circumstances."

For once, Gabriel had no words. None. At all. He did manage to close his mouth, though. He considered again, not entirely unfounded if he were to say so himself, whether it would be a good idea or a really great one to pay somebody to kill MacLeod. And possibly also Balthazar. Maybe he could get a discount if he included Steve in the package. Problem was that Gabriel sort of liked MacLeod. And his husband. Despite their annoying behavior and Balthazar's obvious infatuation with himself. 

At the end of the table, Kali put her cup down hard enough to make the coffee slosh over the rim. "Yes, that's all very nice. If anyone here actually have the mental capacity of an adult, please let me know. We have a house to finish and a show to do, and I could need some help from people who aren't actually attempting to think with their dicks, because that's where their brains are currently residing. Are y'all done with your antics?" She eyed Balthazar angrily. "That goes for you as well."

"If I wasn't already Fergus's, I'd be all yours, Ms Kali. I'll be happy to help. That's why I'm here after all." Balthazar smiled as if that was enough to make Kali back down.

It earned him a cold glare from Kali, one that Gabriel only knew far too well. He'd been at the unpleasant end of it far too many times. Kali was all work and no bullshit. "Steve?" Kali said, as if she considered any further explanation superfluous. 

"Dean and I are moving in together," Castiel suddenly said, interrupting further discussion of the topic, effectively closing the mouths on anyone ready to open theirs again. Five sets of eyes turned in his direction, six if one counted the girl behind the cafe's counter. "Dean doesn't care about being in or out or in the papers or on the news. I refuse to believe that we are very interesting to them anyway, despite Steve's effort to make it sound otherwise. Dean and I do know that our relationship isn't going to be a secret for very long, not that it was secret in the first place. We don't care about Steve. Unless you count Dean's intense interest in punching him in the face, that is, one that I am ashamed to admit that I share." 

"You're... you're... But you live with me!" Again Gabriel was left speechless. He looked at Sam who looked entirely baffled as well. He hadn't seen that one coming. When Cas got all determined, he certainly moved fast, and hs surely had left Dean behind since Sam hadn't been informed about that particular and interesting development. Gabriel had firmly believed that he'd moved in with Sam, asked him to marry, and perhaps gotten another dog and a few unruly children, perhaps even sent them off to college before Cas and Dean had gotten their shit together. "You know as well as I do that the press will be all over you and Dean the second they find out, he contradicted. "The House Angel is still on national TV."

"I doubt it will be much of an inconvenience that I move out of the apartment," Castiel said calmly. "I guess you could use the extra room as an office space for Sam when he's at Berkeley. The press we'll deal with when the time comes. We're not that entertaining."

"Wonderful! Problem solved! I assume congratulations are in order?" Balthazar waved at the waitress. "I think we're in need for Champagne. You do have Champagne? Nothing like celebrating young love at eight in the morning. At least it makes the rest of the day remarkably more interesting."

\- 0 -

Two glasses of Champagne and a pile of bacon and eggs later, Gabriel was a little drunk and Sam was a little more loving than usual, not that Gabriel was complaining. Castiel had disappeared to call Dean, relieving him of any worries in connection to the now-vanished Steve-problem. Anna would get a call, too, informing her about her client's ill-considered attempt to ruin the show.

Balthazar turned out to be great company, and Gabriel regretted that he hadn't had much time to speak with MacLeod before. Both men were hardworking and sarcastic, clearly in love with each other, and Gabriel liked what he saw. He had an affinity for people that weren't sanctimonious assholes, despite their high positions. Maybe another time, later, when they were done with the show and the season, they could visit MacLeod and Balthazar. Gabriel decided that he'd talk Sam into going with him on a well-deserved holiday when Dean was going to attend the masterclass with MacLeod at Guinness's development laboratory.

Castiel came back. "Anna is going to get a hold of Steve and make him reconsider how his career in daytime television will develop in the near future if he insists on contacting the press," Castiel announced. "He is welcome to go public, but I made it very clear that he will come out looking like the greatest douchebag in the industry if he tries." Castiel looked fierce and ready to go into battle. Gabriel was proud of his little brother.

"Well done, bro," Gabriel said, raising his glass. "So what do you say? Let's finish this shit so we can have some quantity time with our boys." He reached for Sam's hand. "Nothing wrong with the quality, I merely want more of it. A lot more."

"I would like that," Castiel agreed, taking a sip of his glass. "And I am content with the quality as well." Castiel's smile was almost shy. 

Gabriel found it adorable. "Let's roll!" He got up, snatched the hellhound from MacLeod's lap and reached for Sam. "You're coming with me to Dean's apartment. I know you're not here until tomorrow, but I'll explain to the workers that if you arrived with the first morning flight you'd happen to be late for tomorrow's shots. So we're off. Now, people! Let's do it!" he urged enthusiastically, eager to get past the finish line now that all obstacles had been removed.

As Gabriel had left the Dodge at Sam's hotel, they had to take a taxi anyway; even Kali was suffering the Champagne buzz and was unable to drive safely. Kali would be returning to Sam's lot, with Balthazar tagging along. MacLeod had agreed to help out at Dean's place. He was discussing the pleasures of India pale ale with Castiel in the backseat of the taxi, Sam squeezed in between them. It took only a few minutes to drive the short distance to the small building that contained Dean's apartment. Dean and Castiel's apartment. Gabriel was glad that he'd assigned Castiel with the refurbishment task. If Cas didn't like the design, he could blame no one but himself. 

"It's a bloody neat place," MacLeod said as they opened the door to the narrow staircase that led upstairs to Dean's apartment. The walls were freshly painted, white and light gray, pristine and clean. They had put in a window in the roof and the golden light from the morning sun made the small space look warm and inviting. "Not exactly what you'd expect from outside."

The volunteers had arrived already and the small group as well as Castiel's camera crew greeted them when they entered. They had set up camp in the living room. "The furniture arrives at nine," Castiel said. "We'll empty the storage container in the street first; it's not going to take long."

Gabriel thought Castiel sounded a bit sad, as if the knowledge that Dean had had very little really got to him. No wonder; Gabriel felt the same way about Sam. He felt that way about every family they'd ever helped to a better life, but being emotionally invested like they were with their boyfriends... it made it much harder to deal with. Gabriel put an arm around Castiel's shoulder. "Dean has you. And me, of course, and..." Gabriel found himself choking; the words stung like bees in his throat. He bit his lip and squeezed Castiel even harder, the pain turning into honeyed happiness. "We have a real family now, kiddo. Sam and Dean are never going to want for anything ever again. Poor or rich, who cares, we're going to manage. As long as we have each other." They stood there for a moment, quiet. 

"I'm so grateful for what we've found here," Castiel whispered. "For everything."

"Then let's go finish, bro, because this is our damned masterpiece. Not only did we save the hottest brothers in the States, but I guess we saved ourselves too." Gabriel's sudden, solemn mood turned into joy again. He was so happy with everything they had done, everything that had happened during the week. Everything he had hoped for had come into fruition and it felt wonderful. "We thought we had everything before, but it turned out that we were damned wrong." He let go of Castiel, patting him on the shoulder. "C'mon. Let's move some furniture, Cassie."

Below the open doors to the new terrace they could hear the roar of a large truck and the steady beep-beep-beep as it backed up close to the front door. A whiff of diesel reached them like a reminder that they had better move. There was a smile on Cas's lips, one that was gentle and dreamy; one Gabriel had never seen before. His little brother was happy too. 

"Irony, isn't it, that I planned the entire refurbishment and the interior design. I'm pleased with it, and I can't wait to live here with Dean." Castiel touched the polished surface of the kitchen island.

Gabriel had seen the plans. "You're going to like it. A bit much with the black and silver, but we can still throw in a few things, patterns and rugs." He turned to Sam for advice; he'd know what Dean would like. "Sam?"

"Green and blues would do nicely. Throw pillows and... I'm supposed to study law, not interior design!"

"I'm sure Berkeley will mourn the loss." Gabriel let go of his brother and took Sam's hand. "But you know what Dean likes, apart from that car of his. And Cassie. I'm going to ask some of the volunteers to make a pillow-run."

"No, please! Dean and I are quite capable to add our own touches to our home," Castiel protested. "It's not necessary."

"I wanna!" Gabriel actually did. If Castiel wasn't going back to Sacramento with him, the least he could do was to help turn Dean's apartment into Dean and Cas's apartment. Gabriel looked around until his eyes fell on a young guy who looked neat in faded jeans an olive-green t-shirt and black trainers. The right colors. "Excuse me," he said, walking briskly across the room to the young volunteer. "I'm Gabriel. And you are..." Gabriel held out his hand.

The guy took it. "Alfie. Nice to meet you."

As usual Gabriel was curious. "What brought you here?" He waved the camera crew closer. The young guy was definitely a bit younger than the average volunteer that Ellen had brought in, and Gabriel was interested in his story.

"Ran away from home some years ago. Fell in with the wrong company up in Chicago. Sam and Dean hunted me down and got me back home. Helped make my parents understand that I... that their way of life isn't my way of life, and that it wouldn't help trying to force me into it. So Dean got me an apartment and a job at the pet store. It was before the recession hit us for real, so I was lucky, I guess, to have a steady job and all. When I heard that Mrs Harvelle was looking for volunteers to help out, I couldn't very well stay away. Sam and Dean saved me. I wanted to help. Give back a little."

Gabriel nodded. He'd heard how Sam and Dean were connected to a group that searched for runaway and disappeared kids at the local children's center, and Alfie was proof of the work they did. Gabriel sent Sam a smile. God, he was so proud of his wonderful, brave boyfriend. "And you can help us out, if you don't mind going on a shopping spree for Dean and Castiel?"

"Castiel?" Alfie asked, surprised. 

"Cas decided that we need some green and blue stuff to cheer up the monochrome. Looks like its your colors, so if you take one of our cars and go downtown and shop your heart out. Pillows, throws, a rug, curtains, fabrics. All that catches your fancy. See if you can get us simple, geometric patterns or something wilder, Rococo, if you—"

"I know what Rococo is." Alfie all but rolled his eyes.

Gabriel laughed and pulled out a credit card. "Of course you do. Buy whatever you see that you like, anything that you think that Dean might like. Just make sure we can return it if it turns out to be an insult to Dean's refined taste." 

They followed Alfie downstairs, ready to get to work. A giant truck was in the street, the volunteers ready to unload. Castiel had brought a board, checking his list as he instructed the volunteers. Like a line of ants, moving food into their nest, the group of volunteers pulled out a couch, mattresses, chairs, as well as the plastic-wrapped dining table that Castiel had used his skills to create for Dean. Gabriel saw it carried past him and away, and he almost regretted not having asked Cas to make one for him... or for Sam, as it were. 

Grabbing a pair of work gloves, Gabriel sighed happily and got to work. They weren't in a hurry as such, but they still had Sam's house, _their_ house, to furnish and make ready for Sam's official arrival tomorrow morning. He grabbed a chair and carried it towards the stairs.

\- 0 -

"It looks absolutely marvelous." MacLeod stroked the polished and lacquered surface of the table that Castiel had made. "Do you take commissions?"

"For select clients, yes." Castiel was satisfied with the result too. The black and chrome dining table, the transparent Starck Ghost chairs and the Le Corbusier sofa suited the room. The full-size photostat of Dean's Impala on the far wall only enhanced the stark simplicity of the design. A few of faded blue and grass-green throw pillows that Alfie had bought softened the harsh contrast of the monochrome color scheme. The soft blue was reflected in a thick woolen rug underneath the coffee table. A white vase with neatly arranged flowers—white roses, cornflowers and black cosmos and dahlias—was the centerpiece, decorating the dining table. Another rug, a darker blue one with a light blue pattern, added softness to that part of the room. Alfie's Rococo-pattern pillows made the transparent chairs look even better. The room smelled of roses and summer, and of the spices and flowers that Castiel had planted in the large jars outside.

Castiel looked everything over once more, silently making an account of the rooms. Bedroom and guest room were done, bathrooms finished, an inordinate amount of outrageously expensive and fluffy towels filling the cabinets. The terrace had been finished for a few days, and everything looked great. It felt like home, the apartment, the small street. He felt like he belonged here, and maybe that was why the entire refurbishment had turned out to be one of the best designs he'd ever made. The combined kitchen and living room was Castiel's pride. With Gabriel's addition of color, it was stunning. Alfie had done a good job, picking stuff out. Maybe they should ask for his CV; if the boy was interested in interior design, they might have found real talent. With the show being so big, they could use another assistant, especially since Gabriel might want to gear down a little. Castiel knew he wouldn't mind having more time to be with Dean. 

"Dean is going to be so happy," Sam said. "He'd have been happy with anything that wasn't moldy, but this is simply the visualization of his wildest dreams. He loves his car, and it really is as if you've taken a piece of the Impala and turned into a home."

Castiel hoped so too. He wanted to dedicate his life to make Dean feel happy.

"That Impala is one big ass car," Gabriel said. "And I'm a bit envious of how good this looks. Good job, Cas! Just promise me that you're never going to feel inspired by Sa-" He stopped himself at the sight of Castiel's wrinkled eyebrows. Gabriel had to be careful not to give away that Bobby had restored the old Dodge for Sam. "By the '70 or something. Orange walls are distasteful and it makes me dizzy. Eye-hurt orange and diarrhea brown were never that good together." 

Castiel felt very tired when he deliberately ignored Gabriel's tirade. Of course Castiel would never express that level of distastefulness. He usually left that to Gabriel. He decided not to comment on, although Gabriel's bedroom in the trailer provided ammunition enough to shoot down any argument that Gabriel would ever be able to come up with. "And the brewery?" Castiel consulted with his board. "Anything that needs... anything? You need to see the brewery before we leave, Gabriel?"

MacLeod patted Castiel's back. "We're good to go, mate. Everything is in order. And I'm staying here tonight with Balthazar. The guest room is more inviting than any hotel. I'm making a last-minute check before the reveal tomorrow morning."

"It's fine, everything looked great yesterday. I trust you. I truly admire the work that you've done, you and the team. It's flawless. I doubt that you need any help tomorrow, MacLeod."

"Fergus, please." MacLeod smiled. "I got this nagging feeling that we haven't seen the last of each other yet. Out of the goodness of my heart I'm probably going to invite you and Sam to come visit us when Dean is joining our masterclass. Balthazar will be elated."

Gabriel made a fake and very loud sob. "Fergus, you are an angel. And we're going to make you regret it; we're bringing the hellhound. And Castiel."

"Wouldn't be the same without them. And no, I got it covered. Unless there is an accident, the brewery is ready."

"It does not really matter what I think, does it?" Castiel asked. "And shouldn't you be more concerned about the rest of your day, Gabriel? You should send Sam back to the hotel about now, so that we can go finish over at Sam's lot."

"I don't wanna," Sam complained, clinging to Gabriel's arm. "I know I shouldn't even think—"

"No," Gabriel said. Of course he wouldn't let Sam see the house. There was cheating, and then there was _cheating_. "Absolutely not. Hotel. Now. And do not try the puppy-eyes. They are not going to work."

"If he was half as confident when dealing with that dog of his..." MacLeod snapped his fingers and the hellhound came running to see what its new best bacon-provider wanted. It whined pathetically and threw itself on MacLeod's feet, wiggling and yipping. "Good boy." MacLeod leered mockingly at Gabriel. "See? It works." 

"Jeez." Gabriel made a face at his dog and bent down to pick it up. He grabbed Sam's hand and sent him a look that told him that no protests would be accepted. He looked back over his shoulder at Cas and MacLeod. "Meet me at the lot. I'm going to drive him back to the hotel and need a little time to say goodbye."

\- 0 -

They didn't make it longer than to the staircase. Sam took two steps down before he turned around, effectively preventing Gabriel from going any further. With his free hand and for once level with Sam, at least in an upright position, Gabriel didn't need more encouragement than that. With the hellhound squeezed between them, Sam embraced Gabriel, just standing there, quiet.

Gabriel stroked his back with his free hand, the cotton of his t-shirt slightly damp. "You okay, kiddo?"

"Are you coming back to the hotel tonight?"

"I'm going to drive you back. I'd love to stay but I can't. Or, I could; we have enough time. Only I owe it to the volunteers to stay at the lot, make sure they're all happy with the experience. Plus, I think that if I ever was grateful for anyone showing up to offer their time to the show, this week is _it_. I need to be there, Sam, and oversee everything. Because the guy we built the house for is the hottest man I've ever seen, and I plan to hit on him big time."

Oooh, that sounds interesting." Sam cupped Gabriel's cheek. "Why don't you tell me more about it? Maybe show me what you want to do to him?"

Gabriel couldn't help himself. He should be going, but kissing Sam was so much more interesting. "I'd love to." He pressed his mouth to Sam's, demanding immediate surrender.

Kissing back with a hunger that seemed insatiable, Sam whimpered into the kiss, small puppy sounds that drove Gabriel insane with desire. Maybe sharing the hellhound with Sam wasn't that good an idea. Sam was quick to pick up its bad habits. The kiss was going too far, and Gabriel could feel his determination slipping. He wasn't going take Sam against the wall in a staircase, though. Not here, not when there were people all around them. "We need to stop. I want to be with you, Sammy," Gabriel murmured before he kissed Sam again. "And from tomorrow I will be, every day, if you still want it."

"You are so slow," Sam stated, and moved back a little to avoid the hellhound who had decided that Sam's nose would be a great place to explore with its tongue now that the road was clear. "And I'm taking you only out of pity."

"A true humanitarian," Gabriel said and kissed Sam again.

The hellhound cleverly stayed out of it.


	15. Kiss and Tell

The sun was shining merrily, heralding the coming of an exciting day. Castiel was checking the last-minute preparations. As usual he had reveal-jitters. He always did. He knew that the camera crews were in place, the volunteers were lining up outside, exactly as excited and thrilled as the entire crew. Castiel never got tired of the rush just before they were about to present their work to the recipients. It was TV, it was planned and nothing should be a surprise to him, but the relief and happiness of those The House Angel helped were never getting old. Castiel hoped that he'd never get so jaded that he could not to enjoy it. He didn't think he would. That kind of happiness was contagious. Changing people's lives was what he did, and he loved it.

He had never expected that The House Angel would change his own life, too, and in such a short span of time.

But when he looked at Gabriel, fussing over the exact placement of a Kimberly Cook centerpiece on the dining table, or when he watched Dean's joy, so happy that Sam had a beautiful new house, Castiel would not have it otherwise. He'd thought that he'd had the perfect life, just as Gabriel had thought his life was exactly like he wanted it to be. God, they had both been so very wrong. With Dean, Castiel had found the part of himself that he'd never known that he missed. And now that he had him, he couldn't imagine life without him. Like Sam and Gabriel, it felt as if they were made for each other, slotting into each others' lives so effortlessly. Dean might be imperfect, but was perfect for him. Castiel allowed himself yet another minute, studying Dean in quiet admiration as he worked, wiping a rag across the shiny surface of the kitchen island. Again.

Finally Dean realized that he was being watched. He stuck the rag in one pocket and stepped up to Castiel. "Creepy, dude!" he said, although it didn't bother him enough to refuse Castiel the kiss he wanted so badly. 

Their lips met briefly, as if the minute touch and the sensation of damp lips brushing against each other were enough to tide them over until they were alone. "We need to go outside now," Castiel said. "You don't want Kali to come fetch us." Castiel grabbed Dean's hand. "Ready?"

"No. God, I hope that Sam's going to like it." Dean looked insecure for a second. "What if he doesn't like it?"

"Dean, stop. You've been in on everything, you know Sam's taste, and he is so damned grateful that we could have dug a hole in the ground and covered it with a piece of plywood and he'd been pleased. Gabriel knows what he's doing. This house is the best he ever made, and he had every reason to make it great. Just look at it, and tell me again that Sam isn't going to love it." Castiel tried to sound convincing, but the butterflies in his stomach surely were cousins to those that clearly inhabited Dean's. Castiel wasn't that nervous _now_ , but later, when they were to reveal to Dean what they had done for him? Oh, the mere thought made the butterflies tumble around, fluttering in turmoil. "He's going to love it," Castiel repeated. "I assure you that design magazines will feature this house for years if Sam allows them. It's fantastic."

The house was indeed a masterpiece. It was tastefully decorated, a showcase of the best furniture and the most stunning fabrics American and European furniture designers had created through the last eighty years. The designs were never exaggerated or flashy, nor was the house made to look expensive. It was just simple, beautiful, comfortable designs, and top quality from the front door to the roof. It would suit Sam perfectly, Castiel was sure, because Gabriel had somehow caught the quiet dignity that had made Sam able to keep standing through the many challenges life had thrown him and turned it into something visual, creating a mood that reflected Sam as a person. The house was perfect, not just because it was inspired by Sam's personality, but because it showed Gabriel's love for him as clearly as if it had been carved in stone. If Sam was ever in doubt that Gabriel was in love with him, all he needed was to look the home that Gabriel had made for him. For them.

"I know." Dean squeezed Castiel's hand nervously. "Sam's going to be so happy."

"Let's go, Dean. He is almost here. We shouldn't be late."

Through the open door they could hear the crowd cheer. Gabriel decided to leave the advanced piece of pottery and strode past them, ready to greet Sam. "Now, boys," he commanded arrogantly, as if he hadn't been caught up in last-minute changes and his own need for perfection.

They almost had to run to keep up with Gabriel.

One of the camera crews was standing on the pavement right outside the house. On the far side, the volunteers were lined up, waving and shouting even before the limo turned around the corner. It was still early, and the cool morning air smelled of rain and freshly-cut grass. A new, bright, sunlit day. Castiel felt as if it was the same for them, for him and for Gabriel and for the men they'd fallen in love with. A fresh start. A new beginning. Even here, at the end of The House Angel's season, it felt as if they were right at the beginning of something new. 

Sam's car, a sleek and smooth black limo, finally came down the road towards the lot, Sam hidden in the backseat.

"And here he is," Gabriel told the camera, shouting to drown out the loud cheers. "Sam Winchester!" Kali and Meg stepped up, waving Bobby, Jo and Ellen closer. Behind them, Balthazar and MacLeod joined the group together with the architect. The engineer and the workers' foremen. were there too. Gabriel had the hellhound under one arm; the annoying little dog was important to Sam already, so of course it had to be with them as well. 

Castiel spotted a flash of red hair and a familiar face in the crowd on the other side of the road. "Anna? Anna!"

Their sister made her way through the throng of volunteers, helped by a security guard. She ran across the street a few seconds before the limo stopped. "Gabriel! Castiel! I— I needed to be here with you." 

Castiel knew it was an admission, another one, one that would bring them even closer, like before Gabriel and he had had their fallout with her. He slung his arms around her and Gabriel stroked her shoulder, acknowledging her presence. "Thanks," was all Castiel managed to say, happy that she was here with them, at one of the most important moments in their lives. "Thank you for coming. I need to..."

"Go," she urged, "I can meet your boyfriends later."

Not that Castiel had any choice; he had a job to do, one he loved. He hugged her again, briefly, and stepped up next to Gabriel. Kali got the door, Sam still hidden behind screened windows. 

"This is not where I live." Sam took the hand that Gabriel offered him as he got out of the car, viewing the surroundings with a confused expression. He didn't look at Gabriel, but stared at the white house in front of him. "It's... it's the wrong street. It's not my street!"

"Nope, kiddo. It's all yours, house, lot, street. Although your new neighbors might disagree on the last one. We bought you a new lot, one that allows you to create new, better memories." Gabriel held Sam's hand for too long, at least for too long if they tried to pretend that there was nothing between them. "Closer to Dean and Ellen, too, so we... so that you can go visit without driving. Just a short walk with the dog." The hellhound had seen Sam and it wriggled so much underneath Gabriel's arm that he had to hand it to over to the target of the hellhound's vigorous affection. "I suppose this one will do?"

"The house... it's _beautiful_! It's just... It's so beautiful!" Sam laughed and hugged the hellhound. He looked so happy that Castiel had to swallow as not to let the sting in his eyes become tears. At his side, Dean coughed lightly, trying to hide his emotions. "And the hellhound will do nicely." Sam's smile widened. "Although I think the he might miss you. A lot." The cameras zoomed in on Sam. Even the hellhound fought in vain for his attention. That moment Sam had only eyes for Gabriel. It was on-screen romance, right there, in front of everyone. 

"Is Gabriel going to cut that?" Dean asked. "I think I'd feel... offended if he did."

"Over his dead body," Castiel said, sliding his arm around Dean's waist. "We're not live, but I bet that Gabriel will make sure it's going on the show if that's how Sam wants it. Talk about coming out big time."

"It could be us, you know?" 

Castiel nodded, not sure of what to say. It could still happen. There had been no word of Steve. Anna would have told them if she knew anything. Castiel held on to Dean even tighter, as if the mere thought of Steve Bacic was enough to separate them. 

Dean didn't fight it, but leaned closer. "I still mean it, sweetheart. If we're out, we're out. Get me my own rooftop, and I'll shout it from there. I am not ashamed of you, Cas. On the contrary."

"Nor I of you." Castiel didn't think he needed to say it again; Dean knew that he was with him, no matter what they chose to do about making their relationship public. But Castiel liked it, that they were confident enough to stand by each other, and do it openly. 

Gabriel took Sam's hand. "First, let us thank all the lovely people who got together to make this happen," Gabriel shouted, turning to the volunteers. "Without you there would have been no house, and I would never have met Sam, and, oh my, had that been a shame!" There was laughter and applause, and someone shouted _just kiss him and get it over with!_ Gabriel just wiggled his eyebrows. "Later," he shouted back. "I'm in the middle of something here!" 

Introducing Sam to the foreman and the architect, Gabriel pulled out a flat gift-wrapped item. "I cannot thank you enough for volunteering for Sam. As y'all know, he is a kind and giving person, smart and lovable and wonderful. The perfect man. And as some of you have discovered, during the months that we planned this house _I_ discovered that Sam was not only perfect, but that he was perfect for _me_."

There was a pause while the volunteers cheered and whistled and applauded once more. 

Gabriel raised a hand to silence them. "Therefore there is no way that The House Angel can accept this house as a gift. Volunteers built this house for free, you donated the materials and your hard work to Sam, not to me." There were more shouts, disagreeing with Gabriel. He waved his hand again. "Shut up, or I'll set the hellhound on you!" There was more laughter, and Gabriel laughed with them. "Y'all have no idea how hard he bites when he gets a hold of your ankle! Anyway, before we settle the problem with the house, I want to give this to Sam." Gabriel offered the small package to Sam, who ripped the paper off of it with an eager and slightly confused look in his eyes.

"What? What is... Oh." Sam stood there for what seemed an eternity. "Oh, Gabriel." Sam, teary-eyed, held up a brass nameplate. _Sam Winchester & Gabriel Alighieri_, it said. Sam held it up so that the closest volunteers could see it, and the information spread through the crowd like wildfire.

"Yes, and you know it," Sam said. "God, yes!"

Castiel grabbed Dean hard, waiting for the inevitable. Dean was holding his breath.

The kiss was brief but the crowd cheered them on until they kissed again. Finally the noise died down. Gabriel turned to the engineer and his foreman. "I have here a check that covers the estimated value of the house you built, and of the work your employees put into it. It's yours. If you want to donate it to another worthy cause, I suggest the Lawrence Children's Center. Sam and I cannot accept the house on any other conditions. Here is yet another check for our architects; again, we want to pay you for the work you did for us. When we asked you, I didn't know that it would be _us_ , and not just Sam."

"Let me offer my congratulations first. Secondly, we're happy to donate to the Children's Center. We understand that Sam and Dean Winchester helped out there for years." Ms Talbot, the head architect, held up her hand in refusal of the money. "I'd appreciate it if Sam would make sure the money end up in the right hands. We'd like to contribute to an education fund for young people who are in need of a helping hand."

"Hear, hear!" The professional builders liked the idea. One of them shouted to their boss, "We don't need anything! Give them the check!"

The engineer was in favor of the idea. "Our company agreed to work to give Sam a home, and we agreed to donate our time and a few pieces of leftover timber." Quite the understatement, seeing that every little piece of wood that made up the large house had been donated by their company. "We don't see the difference. Sam or kids without homes? Sam or kids in need of help? Sure, Sam is a deserving guy, but we would love to contribute to a better life for children in need. Count us in." The engineer nodded and smiled. "It was our pleasure. And Gabriel's, too, it seems." He took the check out of Gabriel's hand, looked at it for a second, eyebrows raised in surprise, before he handed it to Sam. "Gabriel has been very generous. It is a lot more than our work is worth. Let's make it even. My company will donate not only the amount we got from Gabriel, but we'll double it so that the Winchester Education Fund gets a proper start."

Again the volunteers shouted and cheered. The noise was ear-splitting. When the commotion died down a little, Gabriel thanked the architect and Sam hugged the engineer, clearly touched by the big donation to the cause that had taken up most of his free time and energy.

"Oh, man," was all Dean said. Castiel let go of him and gave him a slight shove in Sam's direction. Castiel stepped back, this was Sam and Dean's moment. Sam realized that Dean was next to him, and they embraced each other. Sam was still teary-eyed, and Dean was looking exactly like the protective big brother that he was.

"It's fantastic!" Dean hugged Sam again. "Thank you, all. This is..." Dean was moved, deeply moved. He tried not to show it, but Castiel wasn't in doubt. Then there was more hugging and cheering, the entire crowd with them. The Winchesters and the work they'd done for their community might have gone unappreciated for years, but now they were rewarded with the full support of Lawrence's citizens. Castiel was so proud of his man; Dean was selfless and wonderful and deserved every moment of appreciation that befell him. And Castiel could hardly wait until they were done here, so that he could show Dean how everybody had done their best to make sure that Dean had a suitable reward as well.

When the noise died down, Gabriel took Sam's hand. "Let's go look at the house. It's going to be a brief tour; we have so much to see and do."

Dean fell in behind them, next to Castiel, as Sam and the design team walked up the path to the house. "What does he mean by that?" Dean asked. "How much more than the house is there to see? Not that there isn't a lot of house. And the cars."

Castiel didn't answer. "You should go with Sam, Dean. He wants to share this experience with you." Castiel knew he was being manipulative. He didn't like it, but that particular question wasn't one that Castiel wanted to answer right there. It was easier to divert Dean's attention; pointing out that Sam needed him was a surefire way to do so. 

The second camera crew was in place to catch Sam's expression as he entered the house that Gabriel had built for him. Castiel couldn't see him; he probably would later, when they were editing the shots, but he could see Sam's back, how it shook when he turned into Dean's shoulder, trying to collect himself enough to go on. Gabriel's face was serious and worried as he stroked Sam's back.

"You okay, Sammy?" Gabriel sounded worried.

"Yeah." Sam sniffled, drying his eyes. "Never been better. It's perfect." He was looking at Gabriel as if he was a god. "Oh, Gabriel. It's exactly what I'd have dreamed of if I ever imagined I could have anything like it." Sam held on to Dean, and tugged at his arm to get his attention. "I wish you could come live with us." Sam shut his mouth and sent Castiel an apologetic look. 

"It's fine, Sam. And me and Cas... we'll make do with what we have. I'm sure Castiel want to help me with the roof. I mean, it's not as if my place is that bad. It's a bit damp, that's all."

Except it was, and Dean knew it. Or he thought he knew it. Castiel's heart bled for his brave, protective man. If he had anything to say about it, Dean would never have to pretend again that he was happy to make do with so little.

"Everything is just so pretty and... " Sam was almost in awe of his house, no wonder, Gabriel had gone above and beyond anything he'd ever created before. Sam walked around the huge dining table, caressing the backs of the dining chairs. The house smelled of freshly cut wood and of paint and leather. It smelled new. The scent of a new life.

Dean let go of Sam. He turned to Castiel, whispering in his ear. "Gabriel didn't like the table you made for them? I'll have to punch him. It was awesome. What did you do with it?"

Another question that Castiel didn't want to answer. "I'll look into that later," he promised, tagging along as Gabriel led the group upstairs. He couldn't wait to see Dean's expression when he discovered the table in his refurbished apartment. 

The upper floor and the lavish interior led to more ooh-ing and ah-ing, all of it signs that Sam was overwhelmed and happy and elated and probably a handful of other feelings, some of which Castiel shared. It was always like that, from the smallest apartment The House Angel had designed, to the largest project—an entire street: people were happy and relieved, and that was what made every second of hard work worth it. Not the money, not the gratitude, but the relief they gave to people who had had very little luck in their lives. 

"He's so happy." Dean's eyes crinkled at the corners and his smile was that of a proud parent as he watched Sam open the cabinets in the large bathroom. Sam was examining the fluffy towels, similar to those Castiel had stocked in piles in Dean's bathroom. "I wanted to be able to give him all that and—" Dean bit his lip, turning one of the towels in his hand.

"And now you have. You didn't have the means, but you contacted The House Angel, and that counts, Dean. It counts. If Bobby and you hadn't made that bet, admittedly under the influence of your good beer, nothing would have changed. Don't belittle your actions; they are more costly than the money we spent on building this house." Castiel took the towel from his hands and put it back in the cabinet. "Sam knows it too." Discreetly he took Dean's hand, caressing it gently.

"See? That's why I need you, Cas." Dean ignored the camera as it caught them holding hands. "I'm sorry I don't have more to offer you than a shitty apartment and a bad attitude."

"I don't mind your attitude," Castiel said as he stroked Dean's hand, a little distracted. He knew he should be more into the show, but Dean's presence and the anticipation that kept building made Castiel quite inattentive to Gabriel and Sam's house tour. "I wouldn't worry about your apartment. We'll see what needs to be done later. I'll help. It might not be as bad as you think."

"I don't wanna leave Sam. Or Lawrence. But if you'd rather stay at your place, I could move the brew tank with me to Cali—"

"No, Dean." It touched Castiel deeply that Dean was willing to give up so much for him. The apartment in California was nothing in comparison. Gabriel would still stay with Sam, whether he was here or at Berkeley. They had no use for the apartment any longer. "I'm staying here, with you. I like Lawrence. It feels like home."

Dean was quiet for a moment, maybe needing time to digest. Sam and Gabriel and the camera crew disappeared down the hall to explore the master bedroom, leaving most of them behind. "Let's go downstairs if we're not needed," Dean suggested. "I... I'd like a quiet moment with you, just... it's crowded up here. You're sure that Gabriel isn't going to need you in a minute? I mean... it's your show too."

"Yes, it is my show. But I'll be on later; this part is all Gabriel's. It wouldn't be fair to him if somebody else took over. It's his house and his Sam. Gabriel has been waiting for this for so long."

"He really is in love with Sam, huh?" 

"You know he is. It is not that hard to understand. Sam is great and Gabriel is extremely caring and faithful when he finally falls in love. When he has decided that someone is worth his affection he's not going anywhere."

"And neither are you, baby." Dean took a step closer, determined and eager. "Except for downstairs with me, so that I can kiss you if we can find a room without people in it." Dean was so close that his breath ghosted hotly over Castiel's cheek.

All his life Castiel had been able to work hard, follow orders, stay professional. But Dean made him fall apart at the seams. When Dean looked at him, there was no one else in the universe. "I'd like that," Castiel croaked. He wasn't needed up here, not now. Kali and Gabriel were the ones assigned to do the interviewing. Castiel and Meg were in charge of the part of the episode that was to be filmed over at Dean's place. Until then, he could take a short break. They were used to the chaos, and Gabriel would have one of their assistants call him if he was missed. Still, he should be ashamed of himself to conduct himself so unprofessionally, but being in love made his resolve evaporate with the burning desire that Dean evoked in him. It was just a short break, Castiel told himself, a small kiss and they couldn't have it here. The entire upper floor was filled with their family and people who had helped them fulfill Sam's dream. Meg was speaking to Anna, walking slowly towards the staircase; they passed them by, leaving a whiff of Armani and the lavender soap that Anna always used. Anna smiled and winked, as if she understood perfectly that he needed a moment with his man. "We could go outside and wait," Castiel suggested. "I think Ellen and Jo are looking forward to showing Sam the greenhouse and the hellhound's luxurious abode. Not that Sam or Gabriel would ever allow the dog to actually sleep outside in a doghouse."

They walked down the stairs, waiting for Anna and Meg to go where Anna and Meg were heading. 

The hall was finally empty. Dean didn't ask permission and he needed none. Caressing Castiel's side, he turned him around, gently, Castiel following willingly. God, he needed Dean so badly. Dean's closeness evoked a cornucopia of emotions in him, some of which Castiel had never felt for anyone before. He had never felt the way he felt for Dean. He was half hard, so needy for touch that it felt like his skin soaked up the slow caress like rain in a desert. Shivering from mere want and the need to feel Dean's skin under his fingers, Castiel didn't hold back. He pressed his lips to Dean's mouth, expecting no resistance as he took the kiss he wanted, wet and open and messy. He pulled Dean's hair roughly, pulling his head back, so that he could deepen the kiss. Dean made a sound that made Castiel's half-hardness considerably harder. It was electrifying. 

A flash went off behind Castiel's closed eyes, pleasure shooting thought him. Then another, one that wasn't of Dean's doing. 

"What—" Castiel snapped, looking directly into the lens of a camera. "What are you doing?" He disentangled himself from Dean, his lust turning into sudden rage. He glared at the photographer, shaking from anger. He took a step forward, then one back, unsure of what to do.

"Getting pictures for the top story I'm going to sell to anyone willing to pay for it. Going to be the perfect career-ruiner for you, Castiel."

Castiel whipped around, taking a step back so fast that Dean bumped into him from behind.

"Hell, no," Dean growled. "What's _he_ doing here?" 

Castiel had expected many things this day, but he certainly hadn't expected to find himself face to face with Steve Bacic again. Startled, he froze on the spot, staring at Steve in disbelief. Bacic clearly had half a brain and no shame since he dared showing up on the lot.

"Nobody treats me like you did, Castiel. I'm a renowned actor," Steve stated haughtily, "and I demand respect. Nobody makes fun of me. I am Dr Sexy!" he declared, adding fuel to Castiel's annoyance. Blind to anything but his own importance, Steve continued. "How Dean would want you.... Just look at you, compared to me. Why would anyone look at you?" Bacic was working himself up. "You only get what you deserve. Both of you. I'm going to ruin you. I am not taking this lying down. I want satisfaction. Dean doesn't know what he is refu—"

Bacic didn't get any further, because Dean simply punched him in the face with a closed fist, eliciting a cry from Steve. Dean winched and shook his hand. He glared at Bacic as he rubbed his knuckles. "Yeah, that was totally satisfying. There is more if you're not out of this house in thirty seconds, and I assure you that you're lying down when I'm through with you. And not in the fun and sexy way. You were not invited to the party, Bacic, so fuck off!"

Bleeding from his nose and with an expression as of his entire world had just been turned on its head, Bacic attempted a weak protest, muted by the hand that covered his mutilated nose. Dean took a step in his direction, fist raised. 

"No, Dean, please!" Castiel put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't."

Dean hesitated. "You're not going to let him get away with this?"

Castiel shook his head. "No. But if someone is going to hit him, it'll be me."

Dean smiled proudly. "Not that I endorse violence in general, but... He's all yours."

The photographer that Bacic had dragged into the mess took a few steps back, ignoring Bacic's blood-stained whimpering. He raised his hands defensively. "I'm out. This is not what I signed up for. He didn't tell me that we were entering the property without permission. I might take it to the limit, but I'm not that stupid."

"I think you're confusing me with someone who actually cares. Camera. Hand it over." Dean turned his hand, palm up. "My brother is at Berkeley Law, this is his house, and you weren't invited either. Hand over the camera, and I won't tell him that you entered without his permission. I'm sure he'd love to have his professors help him sue the life out of you for civil trespassing and attempts at defamation. Not that there is anything defamatory about being in love, but whatever. I'm sure the Berkeley guys can make it sound that way."

"I'd recommend that they look into _Arizona vs Wells_ , 2004, or _Food Lion vs Capital Cities_ from 1997, both cases concerning civil trespassing. In both cases the trespassers lost." Sam and Gabriel entered the large living room. "Neither of you were asked in, and you will both leave," Sam told Bacic and his comrade. "Immediately. Immediately _after_ handing my brother that camera."

"And the ugly mess there?" Gabriel pointed in Steve's direction. "He's bleeding on my floor. I do not take it lightly when people bleed on my floor. I get very annoyed when people bleed on my floor." Gabriel made a face, as if he was thinking deeply about a solution. "Maybe Ellen will help me conceal the body? I'm sure she have body bags somewhere in her storage. To avoid bleeding."

"Unfortunately, I think it's my mess." Anna had heard the commotion; she came striding in, followed by Meg who looked exactly as furious as Anna. "You." Anna pointed at Steve, stabbing a finger into his chest. "Stop whining. You and my lawyer are going to have a serious talk about how you breached your contract and how that is going to cost you more than you care to think about. You need to get out before anyone calls the police and has you removed by force. And you need to go find yourself another publicist, because I am _not_ taking any more of your crap, nor am I gonna sit idly and let you bother my brothers and their boyfriends. Consider that free advice because it is the last you get from me. I've had it with your stupidity and self-importance. See if you can find someone else, willing to deal with your petty asshattery and your inflated ego. It's not going to be easy—when I'm done telling my colleagues and friends about you and what you tried to do to my brother and his man, no one is going to touch you with a ten foot pole or anything else if they can avoid it."

"Does that mean I can't hit him?" Castiel asked, feeling somewhat disappointed. "Pity." He was shamelessly pleased that Dean had actually punched Steve. He fought to keep a satisfied smile off his face. He shouldn't feel so pleased, it was not how he was, but in Steve's case Castiel was willing to make an exception. 

A radio screeched and came to life behind him. "Better not, bro. I'm calling security," Gabriel said. "I'm sure they'll be delighted to escort Mr Bacic to the airport."

"I, for one, am delighted that they'll remove him so that I don't have to," Anna said. "But ask them to be sure that he's on a plane out of here before they leave. He isn't exactly famous for being a great thinker. He might return if you let him loose. He's like a dog with a bone on this one. I suppose he needs a day or three and a call from my lawyer before the consequences of his actions seep in deep enough for him to actually understand how deep the shit is that he's in."

Two of the security guards came running, quickly trying to discern what had happened. "Everybody all right?" Jody asked, her tone made it clear that she was demanding immediate answers. "Gabriel?"

"Mr Bacic here was just on the way to the airport. Please help him get there in time," Gabriel told the her. "Restrain him if necessary. Maybe clean him up a bit, just for the sake of it. If he tries to bother you in any way, remind him that my boyfriend would love to be in on the case he'll file against him."

"Victor, please get the car," Jody demanded and put a hand on Steve's shoulder. "Come on, Mr Bacic, time to leave." She sent Gabriel a look. He nodded encouragingly. "And never come back. You won't like it if I see you near my boss again," Jody said.

Bacic was about to protest, Castiel could see it. Steve tensed and turned. "You're threatening me!" 

Jody gave him a shove. "No, I'm not. I'm telling you exactly how it's gonna be. Next time I'm not going to be nice. You won't like it. Move, or I'm going to make you."

"I'm calling the police," Steve cried, still some arrogance left in him. 

Jody reached for her pocket and flipped open a small folder. "I _am_ the police, Bacic. Victor and I are helping Gabriel with security this week because Sam and Dean are our friends. Now move, or I'll get the handcuffs out as well. Just let me know if you want to see Lawrence Police Department from the inside." She shoved Steve towards the door, and suddenly the hellhound came charging from out of nowhere, going directly for Steve's ankles. 

"Dammit, come back!" Gabriel shouted, doubling over, laughing. "Stupid dog! Here!"

Steve screeched and made an attempt at tap dancing to avoid the jaws of death before the hellhound returned to the group in triumph, pretending that Gabriel's half-hearted orders actually meant anything to it. The hellhound pranced around, making a victory round to see if anyone cared to pet it for its effort. 

No one praised it, though. The hellhound's manners were bad enough as it was.

Still Sam and Gabriel high-fived each other and Dean laughed loudly. Castiel folded his arms and glared at them, pretending that he didn't enjoy Steve's downfall. Anna slipped her arm under his. "I'll make sure that Steve won't dare make another attempt. Not again. If the producers of Dr Sexy hear about this... They can't afford losing him, but they can't afford the bad publicity, either. And one of the producers and I are... good friends."

"Anna!" Castiel snorted and laughed at the same time. His sister could be devious when she wanted to. "You little devil."

"Yeah, that's what he says. My, erm, friend."

"Good work," Castiel said. "I'm proud of you... the way you handled that idiot. And friends with the producer, eh? Not that there is anything wrong with being friends with producers."

"I know." Anna kissed his cheek. "I know, Cas. Just like there is nothing wrong about showing to the world that you love your boyfriend. When _you_ are ready."

Yes, Castiel certainly was proud of his sister.


	16. Dean Winchester is Saved

Sam was quiet. He had admired the greenhouse, thanked Ellen and Jo again, then gushed excitedly over the small house for the hellhound. Now he just stood there, looking at the doghouse. "I don't think I really understood until now. That you are moving in with me." Sam's hand fluttered in Gabriel's, a bit sweaty and nervous. "You and the hellhound."

"And you called me slow?" Gabriel chuckled. "I admit that it has been an eventful week to say it mildly, so I might forgive you. I can glue the nameplate to my forehead if you think it'll help you remember that I'm the man of your dreams?" Gabriel had trouble keeping up himself, but that particular piece of information, that he was going to live with Sam, he had no problem understanding. Gabriel's confidence wasn't exactly small; he knew he was a catch. He knew was rich, good-looking and intelligent. His modesty left much to be desired, so he didn't care to pretend that he was unworthy of Sam's company. He was right for Sam, just as Sam was precisely what Gabriel had wanted all his life. 

"Yeah, you do that. Or maybe put it on the front door where it belongs."

"Someone, get me a screwdriver!" Gabriel certainly didn't need to be told twice. "Before my boy changes his mind. I am not wearing the nameplate in public if I can avoid it."

The group walked around the house to the front door. "I don't think I've ever had a more interested audience," Gabriel said as he put in the first screw. "And you're not doing that," he told the camera. "It's private." As private as could be with Sam and Dean and their family and their friends and a few hundred volunteers watching them. But it was still strangely important to Gabriel that he had this moment with Sam to himself, sort of signing the deal by putting both their names on the house that Gabriel had built for them. Satisfied with the result, Gabriel thrust the screwdriver at Castiel, yanking Sam close. "That's it, kiddo. You're mine now."

Sam didn't protest. Instead he grabbed Gabriel, lifting him up so that their faces were level. "I'm going to be a lawyer. I'll have you sign a contract."

"Do you now?" Gabriel hung on to Sam, one leg slung around his thigh. "Is that a proposal?"

Sam cocked an eyebrow. "Could be. Somebody has to keep you in line and I think it should be me."

"Oh, Sammy, I didn't think you were that kinky."

Sam laughed, his body shaking. He let go and whispered in Gabriel's ear, "And I'll show you exactly how kinky when we're upstairs in that nice bed you got for us."

Heat shot through Gabriel. He'd have ushered Sam into the house and into bed in a second if could. Later. Tonight. Gabriel blew out a stream of air, sighing heavily. His pants were a little too tight for this. "Let's get this show on the road, then. It's going to be a long day, and the sooner we're done, the sooner my boy and me can get into—"

"Yes, thank you. What more is there?" Dean stepped forward. "We're just about finished, right?"

Sam and Gabriel looked at each other. "He's so innocent," Gabriel said. "It's either that or he's interrupting me because he doesn't want to hear about my fantastic sex life and about my kinky boyfriend."

"Could be. You know, most people don't want anything to do with your sex life, Gabe, so as your lawyer I advise you to leave that out of any conversation you have with anyone from this day forward." Sam glared at Gabriel, not at all angry. There was laughter in his eyes. "And Dean's adorable when he's clueless."

"Awww," Bobby cooed, "Dean is always adorable. And I'd listen to Sam's advice. It'd save us all the pain of drinking enough to forget that we heard the words 'Sam' and 'sex' in the same sentence."

"What are they talking about?" Dean frowned. "Castiel?"

"Ignore them." Castiel sent Gabriel a look that told him it was time to shut up and actually get moving. The volunteers were still waiting in the street. "Gabriel, let's wrap it up."

"As my brother commands." Gabriel took Sam's hand again; if it was up to him he was never letting go. It would make going to the bathroom difficult, but so what? He was in love. Well, Sam probably wouldn't be too happy with the idea of being included in trips to the bathroom, so Gabriel abandoned the idea of holding Sam's hand until the end of times in favor of a less rigid approach. He kissed Sam's hand before he released it. Sam shook his head, but his sigh was happy. They walked down the path to the road, cameras following them. 

Trying to actually think of his job and not of Sam, Gabriel memorized in his head the short speech he had planned. Meg had left, taking Anna with her. It was time. He stepped out into the street, Sam next to him. He took a moment to speak into his radio before he addressed the volunteers and the workers.

"We have to leave you now," Gabriel told the them. "Our talented catering has worked hard to create a party for all of you and we'll come back and celebrate with you in a little while. We need to take a drive. I think our technicians have put up screens so that you are able to see what we're doing; I'm just the guy who moves some furniture, so I leave it to them to make that work. Anyway, before we go, we better get Sam some wheels." Gabriel nodded in Bobby's direction, waving at him to come closer. Bobby looked as grumpy as he'd done since Gabriel met him the first time, but his eyes sparkled and it was obvious to people who knew Bobby that he was in a very good mood. 

"Get on with it, boy. I don't have all day." Bobby snorted and looked even more grumpy.

Gabriel had to fight to keep a straight face as he turned to the camera again. "As you know, Bobby Singer is a master mechanic. He helped Dean Winchester restore his iconic Chevrolet Impala that most people in Lawrence might recognize. But Impalas are not the only great, iconic cars out there. Dodge made a few, and here comes one of them."

A loud growl rose over the sound of applause as the orange Charger came racing down the road, Jo at the wheel. She sped up, the motor roaring, before she sent the car into a stop that stank of burning rubber.

"This is a gift from Bobby," Gabriel said, looking lovingly at the car. "And having driven her a few times this week, I can vouch for the quality of his work, and for the craftsmanship that went into building the car in the first place! She's a beauty."

Sam hugged Bobby tightly, making the him groan as Sam almost squeezed the life out of him, tight-lipped and teary-eyed from sheer gratitude. Bobby pulled off his cap and put it back on, not entirely comfortable with the attention. "Thank you, Bobby... I don't even know how to..." 

"Don't let Gabriel steal her, boy," Bobby growled. "And I'm going to smack you if you ruin her." He pointed at Gabriel. "And that goes for you as well. I know where you live."

"In a few weeks the whole nation knows where you live," Kali added. "And the way Gabriel hangs on to that Dodge, you would think he took Sam only to get the car."

"We have cars enough. No need to fight over them." Gabriel grabbed Sam's shoulder and turned him in the direction of the road. He waved again, when yet another engine was fired up and the new Dodge came towards them in all its polished glory. Compared to the old Charger, the raw sound of the huge new V8 was maybe a bit less violent, and the grill more discreet, but the growling black monster was still a stunning car. "Here's another Dodge, a brand new 2013 Charger, courtesy of Chrysler Corporation."

"Oh," Sam breathed and sent Dean a look before he stared at the shiny car again, clearly intrigued with it. "It's almost as impressive as Bobby's car."

"It is meant to get you safely from Richmond to Berkeley. You can let Bobby's Dodge stay in Lawrence," Gabriel advised, unashamed. "I can drive her when I'm home." He winked at Bobby. "I swear I'll let Sam have her anytime he wants her."

Bobby simply pulled his cap even further down his forehead and let out a growly, "Hmpf," that Gabriel took as Bobby's approval of his blatant appropriation of the car. 

"You wouldn't think that it could happen, but Bobby really has taken to Gabriel," Dean told Cas. "I suppose he's okay."

"My brother is, at times, reasonably likable," Castiel agreed. "Sam seems to like him, surprisingly."

"Did you just make a... a joke?" Dean sounded extraordinarily pleased. "Oh, Cas."

Gabriel hid a smile. His little brother was cute when he was in love. Dean too. The two lovesick fools had no idea that they were broadcasting their infatuation with each other so that no one was left in doubt of how in love they were. Anyway, it wouldn't take long before everybody knew. The only thing negative about all this falling in love business was that he wouldn't be living with Cas any longer. In that regard, the location of Sam's new lot was pure brilliance. Cassie would be only a short walk away, at Dean's place. Life wouldn't be the same if Gabriel didn't have someone to tease, which was the perfection of Castiel's relationship with Dean. Dean was easy and Gabriel looked forward to years of entertainment, provided by his Castiel and his lover.

Sam shushed at the assembly. His voice was rough when he spoke. "Thank you, all of you. I don't know what I did to deserve all this. I'm not going to say that it's too much, even though it is, we can all see that. I'm just... thank you, everybody. Last week my life was a mess, except for the long talks I had with the man I fell in love with along the way. Gabriel gave me hope, and you, all of you, confirmed that sometimes that hope isn't just wishful thinking. Tonight you have all showed me that if we stand together there is nothing we can't do."

Gabriel had to press his lips tightly together as not to turn all teary and soft. God, he was so in love. He took Sam's hand, because he had to touch him, reassure him.

Sam's eyes were wet and he squeezed Gabriel's hand so hard that Gabriel winced. "I have y'all to thank for that, Gabriel, Ellen and Bobby in particular," Sam said, the cameras zooming in on him to catch the emotional moment. "But one person has been protecting me, helping me all his life. Not that he's been particularly comforting or anything. Everybody who knows Dean also knows that he's great at being Dean and I wouldn't have it any other way. My brother kept me alive when I thought my world has ended and I can never thank him enough for that. He's always been the one who kicked my butt when it needed kicking. And this week Dean helped too, the entire time he's been helping out here, on the lot." Finally Sam wiped his eyes with the backside of his hand, sending the camera a blinding smile. "I owe my brother my life, and he deserves anything good that comes his way. And now I think that Castiel has something to say about good things and good people.."

Behind Sam's back, Gabriel signaled to Castiel. "Your turn," he mouthed. "Over to Castiel."

The wait was finally over.

Castiel nodded and grabbed the microphone that Gabriel handed him. "Yes. I have something... Dean... " Castiel swallowed and started over. "When Sam and Dean sent us their plea for help, Gabriel was kind enough to entrust me with the task of planning a little surprise for Dean as well. It was clear to us that Dean was caring for his little brother and less so for himself."

"Sam's my brother. I don't want anything," Dean protested. "You got me MacLeod. That's enough, and more than I could ever dream of. Give whatever it is to someone deserving."

"Stop interrupting, Dean!" The outburst made the crowd laugh. Castiel shook his head at Dean's selfless foolishness. "And we do intend to give it to someone deserving! Complain later, if you must." Ignoring Dean, Castiel spoke directly into the camera. "Yes, that is exactly what Dean Winchester does all the time: he selflessly gives everything he has to those who are in need. Anyone in this town who knows Dean Winchester will tell you that he is reliable and kind, willing to go to great lengths to save runaway kids and, as you have seen today, lost little brothers. Dean is always willing to make sacrifices and as I said earlier, The House Angel decided that we should get Dean a small gift. Which is why we need to take a drive," Castiel told the crowd. "I think you'll forgive us for leaving you for a while. Get the party going; Kali and Dean's friend Jo will stay with you, and we'll be back with you in an hour or two."

Again the spectators agreed by cheering and shouting Dean's name. Castiel felt pride swell in his chest; he was so proud of his Dean. 

"The hellhound stays too. He knows how to party!" Gabriel shoved the dog into Jo's arms, happy to have another admirer to do it's bidding. "Don't feed him any bones," Gabriel added. "And keep him off the table."

Gabriel's radio came to life. He spoke into it in a low voice. The limo that had been parked a bit further down made a slow and careful u-turn in the narrow street and drove back up to Sam's house.

"Where are we going?" Dean's hand was strangely heavy on Castiel's arm, as if Dean tried to express his apprehension by a mere touch. "Cas, what is this?"

"Don't worry." Castiel opened the door for Dean before the limo driver was out of the car. "Sam and Gabriel are coming too."

Dean stretched, looking over Castiel's shoulder at Sam. Castiel turned. Sam looked extremely smug. "He's in on it, isn't he?"

"Totally," Sam said and pointed at the limo. "The sooner you get in that car..."

"I'm gonna kill him," Dean told no one in particular. "If anyone but MacLeod has touched my beer—"

"We're coming too." MacLeod and Balthazar came up to them, Anna joining them. MacLeod patted Dean on the shoulder, slightly patronizing. "Your beer is safe, Winchester."

"Could everybody please get in the car. Today." Castiel was getting impatient. They had a schedule, and Dean was messing it up. "Please, Dean?"

"Don't make me regret it." Dean watched as Balthazar and MacLeod took the backseat with Anna between them. "Where's Meg? Isn't she going?"

"Sam and Gabriel... Gabriel wants to drive Bobby's Dodge. Sam's never going to get that car to himself," Castiel said, again leading the conversation into safer waters. 

Bobby and Ellen got in next, shuffling around inside to find their seats. "Damn Gabriel," Bobby snarled as he sat down, the leather creaking underneath his torn work pants. He stared at Gabriel who was climbing into the Charger that was parked next to the limo. Into the driver's seat. "He should be grateful I like him just enough not to do something nasty to him. Thieving little bastard," Bobby snapped, making them all laugh. 

"Come on. We need to go." Castiel pulled Dean with him and almost shoved him into the limo. For once Dean didn't protest. Castiel got inside the too-hot car and sighed deeply as he sat down. 

He wondered if it would be considered deeply unprofessional to get a drink from the bar.

\- 0 -

"My brewery. I thought so. I mean, since you're both here," Dean told MacLeod as the limo driver edged the car into a parking space in front of the small building that housed Dean's brewery. "You're sure you haven't been messing with my beer?"

"Would I do that?" MacLeod's smug smirk wasn't reassuring. Dean still kept his expression of utter disbelief as he looked from MacLeod to Balthazar and back again. 

"Yeah. You would. And you're lying." Dean snorted. "At least you know what you're doing when it comes to beer, so it can't be that awful. Let's get out, then, and see how bad it is."

"I'd never let him mess with your stuff," Ellen said. "It's my lot, and I'd never let him." Castiel was sure that this year's Oscar would go to Ellen Harvelle. Or to Balthazar who managed an angelic expression. Cleverly he didn't say anything.

"I swear I haven't touched your beer." MacLeod held up his hand as if he was actually swearing on some invisible Bible.

Castiel hid a smile. It was true. MacLeod hadn't touched it. He had merely opened the taps and emptied the old brew tank so that they could remove it and install the new one. Some of the volunteers had removed the mash. Technically, MacLeod wasn't lying. 

"Then let's go look," Dean suggested. "I know you've done _something_. You look so frigging pleased with yourself." He pushed the door open and climbed out. Behind them the orange Dodge turned into the small parking lot, a bit too fast, the crisp sound of pebbles on metal rata-ta-ta-ing as a shower of gravel fell short of their feet. Dean stopped, watching as Sam and Gabriel got out. They both looked thoroughly disheveled. Sam was wiping his mouth. Gabriel looked dazed. "Ew," Dean said. "They're disgusting."

"They're in love," Castiel said quietly, wishing that he had had the chance to do to Dean what Sam had done to Gabriel in the relative privacy of their car. He was foolishly in love with Dean, and he knew it. "I assume you know the feeling." He didn't remind Dean that they'd sneaked out to kiss only an hour ago. He was sure Dean remembered very well.

Everything was calm and quiet and on the outside the brewery looked exactly as when Dean had left it a week ago. Even the camera crew was hiding inside. It was on purpose that Castiel hadn't asked any volunteers or workers to be present at the factory. Castiel had wanted to save that for last, the celebration, save it until he was finally able to reveal to Dean the amazing apartment they were going to share. Dean was in that regard unsuspecting, Castiel was sure.

He waited until the entire group was assembled. He wanted badly to take Dean's hand, assuring him that everything was fine. Instead he wiped off his slightly sweaty hand in his jeans, swallowing a nervous lump in his throat. He hadn't been nervous when he planned all this, convinced that his plans would suit their client Dean Winchester just fine. That was before. Before he met Dean. Before he'd fallen in love, before it mattered more than anything else that Dean was happy. 

Dean sensed it. He brushed his fingers over Castiel's hand. "You okay, sweetheart?

"Don't call me that," Castiel protested, not because he wanted Dean to stop. It was their _thing_.

"You okay, baby?" Dean grinned. "Come on, Cas, honey? Sugar pie?"

"I am now." Castiel nodded, returning the smile. Yeah, he was okay, he'd done his best for Dean, going all out, perfected the designs until he'd created a perfect space for Dean. MacLeod had the brewery covered, and Castiel suspected that Fergus MacLeod was no less eager to get things right. It would be all right. "Let's go inside."

With Bobby, Ellen and Anna in tow, Balthazar and MacLeod led the group towards the entrance. Castiel couldn't help noting that MacLeod refused to let go of Balthazar's hand. Maybe he was nervous too? Castiel discarded the thought. MacLeod wasn't the type. He was probably being possessive.

Dean fumbled with the key. 

"It's open." Castiel put his hand on Dean's back. "Dean."

"Yeah." Dean paused for a second. "You're sure I'm going to like it?"

Castiel hoped he MacLeod wa worthy of his trust. "Yes."

"Okay." Dean opened the door, about to take a step inside, but he froze, salt-pillar-quiet. 

"Dean?" Castiel repeated. He could see the cameras inside, catching Dean's expression.

"Yeah," Dean breathed. "Cas?" Dean didn't turn around.

"Yes?" Castiel's hand still lay on Dean's back. He could feel Dean's heart hammering underneath the thin t-shirt. "You okay, baby?"

Dean chuckled almost soundlessly. "It's... It's marvelous. Yeah, I'm okay. Fuck, I'm going to strangle MacLeod for hiding this. You and he... You planned it together?"

"Guilty," MacLeod admitted. "Now get your arse inside and look at the state-of-the-art factory I helped Castiel create for you."

"Show me, you cheating bastard," Dean demanded. "You swore you didn't mess with my beer." Dean stepped inside, hurried steps towards the shiny brew tank and the various kettles and containers that MacLeod had helped install. The freshly painted walls were pristine white, and the stainless steel kettles and the brass fittings were polished to a shine. The air smelled sweet and malty and a little of burned toast.

"I didn't," MacLeod said. "I let it go down the drain, no mess involved at all. We have a new batch running, just slightly bigger than the last."

"Yeah, ten times bigger. This is insane!" Dean caressed the brew kettle, then went on to study the new steam boiler and the mash tun. 

The small group waited quietly until he was done with his tour, followed only by MacLeod, Balthazar and the cameramen. There was too much to see to take a detailed tour, but that was fine: Dean looked overwhelmed already. If Castiel knew Dean like he thought he did, Dean would use weeks to study the specifications for the new brewery, planning what he could do with all the modern equipment. Apart from making a decent living of the work he loved, that was. 

Next to Castiel, Sam was hugging Gabriel so tightly that Castiel feared for his ribs. Sam was crying, hot tears running down his cheeks, until Gabriel reached up to kiss him and wipe the tears away. "I'm so happy for him," Sam croaked. "I'm so happy. This is what he dreamed of but thought he'd never have."

Dean returned to them, flushed and excited, already discussing new ideas with MacLeod as far as Castiel could determine. It was perfect. Then Dean noticed Sam's state. "Don't, Sammy! Don't cry. I can't..." Dean slung an arm around Sam, forcing him to let go of Gabriel. "I should be angry. My innocent little brother turned out to be a soulless liar, too! Seriously, man? You _never_ hide anything from me." He hugged Sam tighter until Sam flailed and forced Dean to let go, tears turning into smiles.

"I could think of a few things he hasn't told you," Gabriel said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, making the entire group break into an embarrassed laughter.

"Let's keep it that way," Dean growled. "Like... forever." He turned around. "And _you_... Oh..."

Castiel stared up at Dean, waiting for the storm to break loose. It did, but not the way Castiel had expected. 

All Dean's confidence seemed to leave him, all defenses down, all walls crumbling. "You did this for me. You... how'd you..." He reached, almost weakly, for something to hold on to, tears welling up in his eyes. "Oh, Cas..."

There was nothing Castiel could do but to hold Dean as he came apart, all the weight he'd been carrying for years, suddenly taken from him, leaving him free to let loose the tight hold he'd had on himself and his hidden emotions for far too long. His face at Castiel's neck, Dean sobbed a few times, heaving for air, arms around Castiel's waist. "It's okay, Dean... It's fine..." Castiel continued to murmur nonsense into Dean's ear until the silent crying stopped. 

Bobby stepped up to them, discreetly handing Castiel a clean handkerchief. "There you go, now turn off the waterworks," he said gruffly, a bit emotional himself. "It's nothing you didn't deserve. Deal with it."

"You should work on your frigging empathy," Dean snapped back. "It's a damned _factory_! It's the most awesome brewery in the history of breweries. How can I ever repay—"

"Boo-hoo. You haven't understood the gift concept have you? You don't have to repay anything." Bobby smacked Dean on the head. "Say thank you to the nice men. Where are your manners, boy?"

"He's right, Dean. There is nothing to repay. Allow yourself to enjoy that people are doing something for _you_ for a change," Sam argued. "You ain't very good at that."

Castiel held his breath for a second; Dean looked as if he was about to fall apart again. 

Balthazar interrupted them. "There, there," he said cheerfully, patting Dean's shoulder, something that made Dean straighten up and reach for the handkerchief. Dean dried his eyes and put the handkerchief into his pocket. Castiel didn't think he'd need it again; Dean had impressive self-control, honed through years of hardship.

"This is going to make it all better," Balthazar said, and handed Dean an envelope. "Good luck, Winchester."

"What is it?" Dean turned the envelope. Cas looked at it, too. This hadn't been planned. He stared at Balthazar and got nothing but an arrogant smile in return.

"Scholarship. Full ride to Kansas University. Microbiology, Chemistry, your choice. You don't need it, but proper scientific training might ease your way from brilliant brewer to an outstanding one. They want you, and they'll help you acquire the required exams so that you can start as soon as possible," Balthazar explained. "There's a good boy, close your mouth, Dean. Looks better that way."

Speechless, Dean stared from the envelope to Balthazar and back again. "University?"

"But that's... that's fantastic!" Castiel wasn't in doubt that Dean could do it, all his talk about having nothing but a GED didn't hide that Dean was very intelligent. Sam might be the more intellectual one, but Dean wasn't lagging much behind. He just never had the opportunity, life being hard on him from an early age. Castiel held his hand out. "On behalf of The House Angel, thank you, Balthazar!"

"Oh, stop that," Balthazar chided and pulled Castiel into a warm hug. "We have high hopes for him. We're doing it entirely from a business point of view. We hope to make use of him along the way."

"Right," Castiel said, knowing instantly that Balthazar was pretending. "You like him, and so does Fergus."

"There is that," Balthazar said. "But don't tell him."

"I have ears, you know." Dean joined them. "Thank you... It's not... thank you." He gave up the polite front and hugged Balthazar. "Sam tried to make me do it for years. Go back to school, I mean. He gave up at some point."

"Oh, we have evil tricks if we think you're going to skip, and I'm not kidding." MacLeod gave Dean a one-armed hug. "You're our minion now, and you have to do what we tell you."

"In your dreams," Dean laughed. "Now that I think of it, most of this is like a dream, and I'm going to wake up in a few minutes in my damp bedroom, wondering what the hell happened."

"You better take this, then, before you wake up." Ellen shoved a document into Dean's hand. "It's not much," Ellen said, "but I want you to have it. It's your business. Now it's all yours. I demand a discount on the beer, though."

Again, Dean lost it. "Ellen! No! It's... This lot too? Cas... It's the... Ellen, you can't!" 

Castiel didn't hesitate when Dean grabbed his hand. "I think it's too late to protest now." He, too, knew how little Ellen Harvelle had, and yet she had chosen to give so much to Dean. 

"So it's mine now? The factory?" Dean looked stunned. "Ellen..." He let go of Castiel's hand so that he could embrace Ellen. They stood like that for some time, until Dean was ready to face the camera. "Yeah, I'm definitely dreaming. I _own_ my factory and all the hardware... it's... " He fiddled with the handkerchief, about to become teary again. He got a hold of himself, then handed the document to Castiel. "If you could hold on to it? Maybe that way it'll still be there when the alarm goes off."

"Of course, Dean." Castiel folded the sheets carefully and put Balthazar's envelope and the deed in his pocket, keeping them there until he could leave them both at Deans apartment.

Gabriel looked at his watch and stepped aside to speak into his radio. He looked impatient when he came back, impatient and excited. "I'm really happy for you, Dean. It's nothing you haven't deserved. And I'm so grateful that Ellen was willing to part with the lot. It's a generous gift. Balthazar's too, of course. It's amazing."

Castiel waited until the crew had gotten the shots they needed before he coughed to get the small group's attention. "We need to get back to the cars. We have a party to attend."

"Thank God. I don't think I could take it if there was more." Dean sighed in relief. "But I don't wanna go. I want to look at all the shiny stuff that MacLeod got me."

Castiel made a disappointed face, slightly exaggerated. Still, he knew what Dean meant. He wanted to cherish the dream. 

"Cast aside for a fermentation tank. Poor Cassie." Gabriel smirked and grabbed Dean's arm, pulling him forward. "You can polish your pipes tomorrow, Deano. Come on. Buckle up, Dorothy, 'cause Kansas's going bye-bye."

"If I didn't—" Dean began, then starting over as if he was about to say something else. "If I didn't think it would make you sad, I'd do something mean to your brother," he said and put his arm around Castiel's waist. 

There were times when Castiel wholeheartedly supported that thought. "It's how he is. We should get to the cars."

"You can take mine so that Dean can get a moment." A glare from Bobby made Gabriel change his mind. "Sam's, I mean. Sam's." Gabriel dangled the keys to the Dodge between two fingers in front of Dean's face. 

"I'm driving," Castiel stated firmly. It wouldn't do to have Dean drive back to Sam's house. And Castiel certainly wasn't about to explain to Dean that they had more in store for him. "Dean should rest, even though it's just a short ride. Come on, Dean." Castiel started walking, hoping it would work.

\- 0 -

Getting Dean in the car was easy enough, it just needed a bit of baiting. Castiel was proud that he understood Dean well enough to be able to do so, but he wasn't proud of manipulating his boyfriend. "I think it's prettier than the Impala," Castiel said innocently, knowing that he was being cruel. It was no secret how much Dean loved his car. "And it has a better dashboard." With a deviousness he hadn't realized he possessed, Castiel tried to keep a straight face when Dean glared at him. "You know I have an old Dodge too."

"No it's not _better_. Get in and I'll show you why."

The limousine went past them and Castiel concentrated on driving as Dean explained to him the differences between the Dodge and his Impala. If Dean hadn't already found a way to make a living, Chevrolet could do worse than to hire Dean to do their advertising. 

Dean was so caught up in his defense of the Impala that it took a little before he realized that they were going in the wrong direction. "That's not... the other way, Cas!

"We need to... your apartment." Castiel sent Dean a glance.

"Why?"

"We need to leave the documents at your place."

"Oh. Is that... couldn't we leave them in the bus or at Sam's?" Dean was delightfully clueless and a little confused, no wonder.

As Dean's place was right around the corner, the drive was over almost before it began. They drove down the small street to the sound of cheers and shouts. 

"Cas! It's the people from the Center.... from the Children's Center! Dean looked out the window at the waving, cheering crowd. "What are they doing here? And... the house? It has a new roof!" Dean was like a kid, turning in the seat, up on his knees and leaning over the seats to see what had happened to the old, leaking roof that had covered the near-dilapidated building. "My neighbors are going to be so happy; they had rain coming down in their bedroom!" Dean crawled back into the passenger seat as Castiel parked the car in the street outside the house. "The roof? Man, I'm sure Benny loves you more than I do; the Building Services Division has been at his case for the last year and he didn't have the money to do anything about it. Not easy being a landlord these days. That's your doing, right? The roof?"

"It's the workers' doing, but I might have planned it, yes." Castiel made a small happy sigh. Dean was so pleased, and it made him happy. "Your friends from the Center helped us put it up." 

"They are really noisy." Dean leaned back in the passenger seat, waving at the people outside. "Somebody painted the front door." Dean stared at the large group of friends and workers. "Okay, so the roof... it took time, I guess. But why are my buddies here now? I mean, it's apparent that you asked them to come. Why?"

"We're not entirely done with the surprises." Oh, Castiel loved these moments. He loved it every time he handed over a house to its inhabitants. This time it was different. It was Dean, it was Dean's apartment, the apartment that would grow to be _their_ apartment, the apartment that Castiel had used weeks on designing so that it was perfect for Dean, creating a design that he loved because he knew Dean would love it. It was the most important design he had ever made. 

Dean sensed it. "Cas?" Dean's hands were shaking. "What did you do?"

"Maybe we should get upstairs and find out." Castiel ignored that they were in public, and leaned across the seat to kiss Dean on the mouth. Dean shifted under him, giving in willingly, kissing back forcefully, maybe in the hope of keeping some form of control over his life. Castiel let Dean kiss him, surrendering to the it and to Dean, giving in until they were both out of breath.

"Upstairs?" Dean breathed heavily. "There is... upstairs?" Behind them, Gabriel and Sam got out of the limo, helping Bobby and Ellen outside. "I'm the only one who didn't know?"

"Yes. They all knew. Gabriel and Sam didn't use all this time just to stare lovingly at each other on Skype. Oh, and Benny Lafitte knew too. He's your landlord after all. Would be difficult to change the roof without him. Lots of people to blame. Me, if you like." Castiel hoped that there wouldn't be complaints. Not when Dean had gotten over the initial shock. 

"You got me good. I... I didn't suspect anything." Dean shook his head in denial. "Damn, how could I be so stupid? Sam was too smug. I should have known that something was amiss." He watched the crowd outside. "'kay. I'm ready. I think. Just tell me one thing."

"Yes?"

"You haven't touched my baby, have you? If she's—"

"She's fine. She's in the parking lot behind the house. We even covered her up with tarp, just to be sure that she'd be fine. Do I have to be jealous of your car?"

"No." The way Dean looked at Castiel at that moment made him sure that he had little to fear from Dean's beloved car. "Okay. Then I'm ready." Dean opened the door. "Into the fire..." 

They made it through the throng of friends, Dean shaking hands and patting shoulders, hugging people he had worked with in the Center, children and parents he had helped. Dean Winchester did not have a large family, but he surely was appreciated and loved by the people who knew him. So many owed him their lives, their happiness, and it showed. Castiel noted that Sam, Bobby and Ellen got the same reception, no wonder—Dean and his friends were everyday heroes, the quiet ones, never making the headlines. Not like Gabriel, and at times, himself. But they made a difference too, one that meant everything to the people they helped. 

"I'm so proud of you," Castiel murmured as they finally made it inside, the front door slamming shut behind them, the footsteps of their small group still echoing in the narrow staircase. "All these people... they are happy because of you."

"You help people too." Dean leaned against the wall. "You and Gabriel."

"We have money. We have the power of media behind us. It's easy. You... you and Sam... Oh, Dean!" Castiel couldn't stop himself. "Yes, I'm proud of what you are. I'm proud that you're... that you have chosen me."

"Says the guy who overhauled my shitty life." Dean grabbed Castiel by the shirt and didn't let go. "Gimme a kiss, baby, and then show me what you did."

Castiel didn't need much persuasion.


	17. A Whole Lotta Love

"What the fuck is this?" Dean looked at the hall, bewildered. "Where's my kitchen? You tore down the kitchen? There used to be a kitchen here!" He showed with his hands where the kitchenette and the fridge had been, next to the front door. "Right here!"

"Dean!" Castiel chuckled. "Would I leave you—us—without a place to cook?"

"Maybe you don't think I can produce a proper meal? I don't know. Would you?"

"No! I have faith in you. And in your cooking."

"There's no mold, that's an improvement." Dean slid a hand over the new door frame and the trim. They shone, white and smooth, a vague smell of turpentine and enamel paint still lingering in the air.

"You can have it back if you truly miss it. It's probably a question of a leaking pipe. There are pipes in the bathroom." Behind Dean the camera crew guys were trying not to laugh. Castiel had to admit that Dean was... cute in all his snarky surprise. Castiel had yet to show Dean the staircase that led to the loft, so his question about the disappearing kitchen wasn't entirely unfounded, seeing that the kitchen had been moved upstairs to the second floor.

Dean snorted. "No thanks. I like the non-moldyness. Unless you have an affinity for mold, I'd prefer to be without." 

"Sam wanted a dog. It's all right if you want a pet. Although you could get a cat. Mold is more difficult to handle." Castiel said, not that he wanted the mold back, either, but he found it entertaining to tease Dean. Dean understood that his odd, underhanded comments were actual jokes; Dean didn't just believe him to be weird, like most people.

"Better keep things neat and dry then. Besides, I like cats." Dean looked at his boots before he walked carefully across the hall's hardwood floor and towards the open door to the master bedroom. "They make me sneeze, though." He hesitated for a second before he stepped inside, avoiding the plush rug under the bed. Castiel followed, anxious to find out whether Dean liked the room. The luxurious bed didn't look luxurious. It was a simple room, a simple bed, apart from the advanced mattresses and the elevation system and the Egyptian cotton sheets and the goose down comforters. There was an Alex Katz over the bed; a colorful, naive lithography that Dean studied for a while before he turned to the bed. Dean poked at the mattress with a finger. His hand almost disappeared into the layers of down and foam and springs. "Oooh," he breathed, in awe of the comfort that only a bespoke Hypnos bed could provide. "Erm, _I_ ," Dean said hesitantly, studying Castiel's face before he glanced at the cameras. "I'm sleeping here tonight, right? Damn, I want to test it right now! Oh, man. It's so soft it's criminal!"

Castiel also sent the camera crew an apprehensive look. Oh, to hell with it. They had shared a bed in the tour bus for a week. It couldn't be that much of a surprise to those who had paid attention. " _We_ are sleeping here tonight, yes." Castiel waited with baited breath for a reaction. "When the party is over. You and me."

"Good." Dean looked at him, a heated look that told him that this was it. No more hiding, not that they had tried to hide anything. They'd been discreet, that was all. "Gabriel's trailer trash bed is too small anyway," Dean said, "and you have a terrible habit of hogging the covers."

Castiel swallowed. All right. Their maybe-a-little-out had just turned into shout-it-from-the-rooftop-flaunt-it-all. Dean smiled, a cocky, flirty smile and Castiel got all weak in the knees. He looked away then back at Dean. At Dean's lips. At Dean's neck and at the spot right under the ear that made Dean squirm and moan when he kissed it. 

"Hello? If you want to have eye-sex, could we... after we're done with the prime time family entertainment shots? Castiel?" Their camerawoman slid the camera down from her shoulder. "Thanks for letting us know, by the way. You know, that you're taken. You weren't joking just now, right?" She stared at them. "So... you're... the two of you? Really? I mean, we actually had a bet going. Most of us thought that Gabriel was fucking with us."

Castiel should have known that Dean couldn't let the challenge lie. He stepped closer, nuzzling Castiel's ear. "Now that we're talking about sex... did you install a tub?" he purred, leaving no doubt that the hot tub would be what came after the eye-sex and the bed-testing. "It's large enough for two?" He winked at the camerawoman, sending her an evil smile. "For real. Did you win, by the way?"

She moved the camera up on her shoulder again, smiling shyly. "Nope. Probably wishful thinking, but I didn't believe you were bi-. Congrats, boys, just, you know... keep it on a simmer until we're done. Or I'll sell the footage to a guy I know who does porn."

"Sorry." Castiel reconsidered. "No, actually I'm not. But I promise we'll do better." They could do that. At least Dean could stop trying to undress him with his eyes. And Castiel was sure he could stop looking at Dean as if he was the only man in the universe. Maybe.

Dean nodded. "We will! I promise. I could ask my boyfriend to show me how the tub works right now. We could make a demonstration," he said, looking innocently into the camera. Luckily Castiel couldn't see the camerawoman's expression. "There really is a tub?" Dean looked around for the door.

\- 0 -

The bathroom had a tub, a shower and enough towels to last Dean for years. To last _them_ for years.

"It's very... I don't think I've seen anything like it." Dean turned on the faucet with the move of a hand. "It's very high tech. Except for that. I like it." He pointed at the ceiling and French antique chandelier Castiel had found and bought in a moment's insanity. Together with a 18th century mirror the chandelier made a brutal contrast to the modern Italian design. Neither might have belonged in a bathroom but it still looked fantastic. "I don't think we need to worry about a repeat performance of our shower se—" Dean shut his mouth. Castiel knew exactly what Dean was thinking. No, they wouldn't have to have awkward sex in a far-too-small bathroom again. Even if was still the best and most horrible sex that Castiel had ever had. He liked this bathroom better. The tub was definitely a more suitable size. Castiel would not be against an encore of bathroom sex in this bathroom. The thought was indeed pleasant. Castiel couldn't help it. He zoned out, looking at Dean again like he was the only man in the world. The only man in the world that he'd like to undress and have his way with, right here.

Dean's cheeks took a bit of color. "Cas, please? I... there's... do I have a living room? There isn't much space left."

"Guest bedroom. Come." Castiel could feel his own cheeks redden. He really should stop thinking about Dean, naked and begging for it. He was a professional! It was work. "Not that big, but it's there."

"I don't get to entertain? Fine. I'm not going to have a life, just say it outright. All I can do here is to sleep and shower?"

Castiel didn't answer. He held out his hand, expecting Dean to take it. "Come on, Dean."

They peeked into the room that Crowley and Balthazar had used. It looked pristine. Dean was still flushed and confused. "But... kitchen? And... and..."

"Upstairs." The staircase was around a wall at the end of the small hall.

"Upstairs? There is no upstairs." Dean stopped, pulling at Castiel's hand. 

"There is now." Castiel waited for Dean to catch up with the new floor plan. "A whole lot of upstairs."

"That's what the new roof was for? But Benny..." Dean bit his lip, hesitant. The camerawoman sneaked around them. Her steps made the new wood creak slightly as she went up the stairs with the rest of the crew. 

Alone on the lower floor, Castiel suspected a repeat of the 'I don't deserve this,' and he cut it off by dragging Dean around the corner to the steep stairs that led up to the former attic. "Go look."

"This is insane," Dean said in a low voice. "Cas... it's too much."

"Don't be difficult. It's no more than what we've done for other people, although I admit I might have used a bit longer than usual to make sure you'd be happy with the changes." Castiel wasn't too worried. The worst was over, and Dean was still pleased, if confused. Castiel was used to people being overwhelmed, and he could handle it. "If it makes you feel better, I _am_ going to pay the builders and the architect like Gabriel did, since we're..." Castiel brushed his hand over Dean's cheek, meeting his eyes. "Since we're going to live here together." I couldn't very well say so earlier, because you didn't know what we had in store for you and we hadn't told anyone about us, apart from the select few."

"No, that's true. And you... you're still sure you want me?" Dean's insecurity wanted out, but Castiel was there to make it vanish for good. 

The distance between them shrank mysteriously, and Castiel whispered his 'yes' in the short space between two kisses. "I'm in love with you," he told Dean again. "And I am not going anywhere." No, he wasn't. He could stay like this forever, close to Dean, holding him, looking only at him until the end of time. 

"Except upstairs to show me the rest of the apartment." Dean pursed his mouth. "They're probably coming downstairs if we don't."

"Mmm," Castiel said and rested his head on Dean's shoulder for a moment. He breathed in deep, taking in Dean's scent. "Yes." 

With Dean's hand in his, they went up the stairs, the sound of their steps cutting off the muted talking from the group who waited for them. 

Dean stopped at the top of the stairs, stunned. "Baby! You... You put Baby on the wall?" Ignoring people entirely, Dean strode through the room, Castiel dragged along with him, his hand still in Dean's. "It's Baby," Dean exclaimed again. "Oh, Cas! It's awesome."

"What you're saying is that I could have furnished the room with cardboard boxes and put a microwave in the corner and you'd been happy as long as there's a picture of your car?"

"No, wait, that's not..." Dean laughed, and so did the onlookers. "But _Baby_. And the couch. It's... like _her_. Chrome and leather. How did you..." Dean caressed the soft leather before he turned around and looked at the rest of the room. 

"I had help. You know I had."

Dean finally acknowledged his family and friends. "Go away," he told them. "You're all liars and traitors and I love y'all. Especially you, Sam, evil, deceiving son of a bitch that you are."

Punching Sam's shoulder before he hugged him, Dean finally directed his attention to furniture. "Oh. Oh!" Dean was all wide-eyed and pleased. "You made it for _me_!" Dean was at the black enamel dining table immediately. "It's... You really made it for me? Not for Sam?"

It struck Castiel that Dean wasn't used to people taking the time and effort to make him something that he'd love. But this week they had showed Dean that his family and friends needed little incentive to do so. They merely needed the means and the time. It had nothing to do with luxurious gifts or buying expensive stuff. It had to do with the love that had been put into a gift, like when Bobby helped Dean take care of his beloved car. Dean, a good craftsman himself, knew how much time it had taken Castiel to finish the table. He had been there, watched it, seen how much love Castiel had poured into that particular piece, every drop of it for Dean, every bit of hard work for him.

"I did it all for you," Castiel said quietly. "There is nothing I won't do for you."

The tension in the room was thick. Everybody fell silent.

It might have taken Dean by surprise because he paused, then looked around for something to do. Castiel could almost see the wheels spinning, getting Dean nowhere. "And there's a cowhide on the floor!" Dean bent down to examine the black hide. "That is so cool." He winked at Cas. "You've watched too much Brokeback Mountain, cowboy? Loved the short story; didn't like the end. I like happy endings."

Right there and then, Castiel knew what was coming and he had all of three seconds to prepare for it before Dean was there, arms around him, kissing him in front of the thirty people gathered to celebrate with them. Behind them somebody whistled—Gabriel—and there was applause and cheers and Castiel didn't care because Dean was his and he was Dean's and everything was exactly as it should be.

"You made it for me?" Dean asked again when he let go, the PDA maybe a bit much for him. "It's the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me."

"Yes. Only I don't see why that is so hard to believe." Castiel looked at their guests looking at them. "And now that I'm moving in with you," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear, "it won't be the last time I'm going to do nice things for you."

"And that, I think, is the sign that we need to break into the Champagne, not that we have any, but Dean's good beer has to do!" Gabriel announced cheerfully, before anybody managed to rein in their surprise or in—what seemed to be most cases—their utter lack of surprise. 

Castiel was so sure that they'd been reasonably discreet about their budding relationship. Clearly they hadn't. Well, maybe Dean had been a little free with the endearments, and there had been a few times where people had caught them a bit too close. Like now. Castiel looked at Dean who was looking at him and the world disappeared again. Because there were more important things to do than to care about the world. Like looking into Dean's eyes. And at his lips. Plus, studying intensely the spot right under Dean's t-shirt, just where his collarbone made a small, lickable ridge,... that was important too.

"At least I won't have to watch over Jo with a shotgun any longer," Ellen announced. "Not the way Dean looks at Castiel. Jo... She's too soft. She'd never have shot him. Well, maybe somewhere where it wouldn't do too much damage. I'd not have been that lenient," Ellen told Anna and Meg. Meg chuckled evilly and Anna blinked, wide-eyed and slightly shocked when she understood that Ellen wasn't truly joking.

Gabriel and Sam were busy passing cold beer and Cokes to people, pulling bottles and cans out of the gigantic fridge that filled the far end wall of the open kitchen. Only when Gabriel pushed a can of cold Coke into his hand did Castiel force himself to return to the reality that had other people in it. "Oh. Thanks."

Dean chuckled. "Perhaps we should. I mean. We could."

"Yeah," Castiel agreed. "I think. Maybe."

"Or not," Dean said and put his arm around Castiel's shoulder. It wasn't what Castiel had expected; when he first had kissed Dean, he'd had thought they'd been looking forward to months of carefully opening closets, eventually coming out to family. The more he got to know Dean, the more he understood that it wasn't how Dean was. Dean was brave and honest and he would never hide his love. Dean was very much an as-is deal, a WYSIWYG man. Sure, Dean wasn't particularly interested in _talking_ about feelings, but it was so easy for Castiel to read him that it didn't matter. Always at odds with his ability to read people, and to understand them, Dean was liberating company. 

Castiel relaxed. They were with friends, it was fine. Around them people were chatting and discussing the design, nobody paid them any overly rapt attention. Gabriel was entertaining the guests, maybe to give them a little breathing room. "So you like it?" Castiel asked Dean. "The changes?"

"Of _course_ I like them. If I had all the money in the world, this is how I'd use some of them. I love it. The kitchen... and the couch. And the table." Dean reached out, caressing the silky surface. "Everything is exactly how I like it." Dean paused, thinking. "Do _you_ like it? I mean... you're going to live here too. I can't just be my home."

"It's not. I'd never create a home for any of our participants I didn't like myself, one way or another. How could I create a beautiful home for people if I didn't like the design I gave to them? I could not work if I was ashamed of what I did,or if I disliked what I had created." Castiel pointed at the blue and green accents, the rugs and the pillows and the flowers. "Your young friend Alfie helped me pick out those. I like how the greens and blues look with all the black and silver. Softer. I didn't know whether you'd like it. It is cozy."

"The blue enhances your eyes." Dean grinned. "I cannot decide what color they are... lavender, sky blue, the color of my undying love! I could drown in them, in the ocean of blue, the—"

"Oh, come off it." Castiel snorted, almost drowning his laughter in a sip of Coke. "Don't tease me."

"But your eyes are remarkable," Dean said, "and I still like the room." He turned serious, the smile leaving his eyes, replaced by something akin to awe. "I had nothing to offer you, and you gave me a new home. Cas... as long as you're here, I don't _care_ how you furnish the place! We have a roof, one that doesn't leak, and a bed and a totally awesome fridge. With beer. I love it. And you."

Dean reached for him and Castiel didn't care that the cameras were there to immortalize the moment. He slipped into Dean's embrace, turning his face up to allow the kiss that Dan wanted. "No, Dean. You gave yourself this. All good things come to those who deserve it. You deserved to be saved. If you are in doubt, look outside, look at the people here. Each and everyone of those men and women down there owe you their lives, or their kids' lives."

"I know that you think that I... You know I did it for Sam."

"Which makes you even more deserving. Stop, Dean. You have to understand that good things can happen to you and not only to other people. I'm going to make sure that good things will happen to you every day. I want you to have everything you ever wanted for."

Dean looked like a child that had been chided. "I'll try. At least the bedroom isn't moldy. I won't have to worry that I'm asking you to leave the lap of luxury and all." The mood left him as fast as it had overtaken him and Dean laughed and stepped back, one hand still on Castiel's back, reluctant to let go.

Castiel was content with that. In time he'd teach Dean that the world had wonderful things in store for him. More wonderful things. 

It didn't take that long, though, before the world decided that 'in time' was a question of minutes.

"Dean?" Benny Lafitte, Dean's landlord, approached them. 

"Benny! You asshole! What the fuck!" Dean disappeared into a bear hug. "Ooof! Please!"

"Language, brother. I conspired with Castiel only for your own good. And for a new roof. You're not that good."

"So you're a lying cheat too. I thought you were my friend, but I see that you ain't. Fucker." Dean clasped hands with Benny, and it was clear that the two of them had a special relationship. It made Castiel a little jealous. Castiel's eyes met Benny's over Dean's shoulder. Castiel nodded, like he had to tell himself that it was fine. He had nothing to be jealous of; During their brief meetings, Lafitte had been accompanied by a very determined girlfriend, and Castiel was sure Benny would get into severe trouble if he looked elsewhere. 

"I wasn't lying. I was being.... secretive. Besides, Castiel is not giving you _everything_." Benny held out an envelope. "This is from me. It's your pink slip."

"It's my _what_? Pink slip as in I'm fired, or pink slip as in car title?" Dean scratched his head. "If you're throwing me on the street so that you can have my apartment, I'm gonna kill you."

Benny let out a derisive snort. "I'll like to see you try little man. What it means is that you're no longer my tenant. Ah-ah!" Benny waved off Dean's outburst. "It also means that what's in that envelope is the paperwork that makes you the owner of this dump. It needs your signature, that's all. The apartment is yours, Dean. I'd have given it to you a long time ago if I'd thought you'd take it."

"I can't—"

"One word," Benny interrupted. "Elizabeth."

"But—"

"You saved her when she that creepy Martin-guy stalking her to get to me. You saved me. You know I'd never have survived if anything had happened to her because of me. You're my friend, Dean, and I'll hear no more. As I said, I got a new roof out of it, so I'm not complaining. Your angel even sorted out the condo conversion costs. I don't know who he bribed down at the City Hall, but he got it done and damned fast. I won't have to hear any more complaints from Building Services. That's worth something. I can afford to do the necessary repairs now that rainwater isn't ruining them as soon as they're done."

"Oh, fuck you!" Dean hugged Benny again. "Never, _ever_ do that to me again."

"Don't think you need another apartment, brother, but let me know if you do. Or maybe not. It'd get me in trouble with your man. I think he's very persistent when it comes to giving you what you need." Benny let go of Dean and held out his hand to Castiel. "Thanks for taking care of my friend, Castiel. Tell me if he's causing you trouble. I have some interesting blackmail material if you need it."

It took Castiel a second to understand that Benny didn't mean it. "I think we've had enough blackmail for now," he said, taking Benny's hand. "I promise I'll ask if Dean isn't behaving."

"I'm always behaving," Dean protested, attempting to win Castiel over with a puppy-look that could have moved even the hellhound.

"You are," Benny agreed, mirth clear in his eyes. "Unfortunately you're not always behaving well."

\- 0 -

Like the rest of their helpers, the crew that had worked on Dean's apartment had been invited to the party at Sam's place. Buses were lined up to drive them there. Their guests were slowly moving downstairs and outside, gently goaded by Meg and Gabriel. Soon the apartment was empty. Sam and Dean were downstairs, Dean taking his brother on a proper house tour. Castiel was relieved to get a short break. The entire week had been exhausting, maddening, wild. Here, at the end of it, looking back, Castiel could barely believe how those seven days had altered his life, upturned it entirely. 

He'd driven into Lawrence, content with his life, and he would be leaving the city a changed man.

Changed enough to know that he even though he had go back to California to finish the show and the season, he would return to Dean as fast as he possibly could. He would make Lawrence his home. It already felt like it.

Caught up in thoughts, Castiel almost startled when Gabriel joined him, poking him in the chest. "Thinking of Dean? You have that dreamy expression."

"Yes. I was thinking about everything that happened since we saw that video for the first time. I thought I was happy before. I guess I had no idea what true happiness was like."

"You were happy, bro. You were living with me. How would that not make you happy?" Gabriel grabbed another Coke and pulled it open. He downed most of it before he put the can down on the dining table. "But I get what you mean. My life has a 'before I met Sam' and an 'after'. I definitely like the 'after' much better. We're still going to be living together, you and me, almost. It's a five-minute walk. It's like two minutes longer than it takes you to get from one end of our apartment to the other. And now we have scorching hot boyfriends. That's a plus."

"And at some point you are going to take that fact seriously, I assume," Castiel said, slightly prissy. His relationship with Dean was no joke. They had a bond, something special.

"I am taking it very seriously. I'm going to live with Sam, I'm going to marry him, and we're going to have more dogs, and maybe kids, and I'm still going to be in love with him when he's old and grumpy and forgets my name half of the time." Gabriel had a faraway look in his eyes, as if he was imagining that happy life and the years to come, years that he'd share with Sam.

"I hope Sam is in on the plan. For your sake." 

"You're awfully chipper today." Gabriel crossed his arms. "Of course I have made my intentions clear. I'm moving in with him, Cas. You know as well as I do that we came here to change Sam and Dean's lives, and I intend to make Sam's life the most perfect, happy, wonderful life any man can hope for. Just like you're doing everything you can to make Dean happy."

"I am." Castiel looked up at Gabriel. "You don't think that we're acting rashly? People would say that we rushed into it."

"Hell, no! Come one, Cassie! Celebrate, be happy, live in the moment! Seize the day, and all that. Go have sex with your stunning man. Who the fuck cares what people say!"

"Who's having sex?" Dean came up the stairs with Sam. "Cas is not having sex without me."

"Yes, let's go see the terrace," Sam said, sending Dean a look of utter disgust that made Castiel unable to hide a smile. "Because there are things I do not want to hear about. Or think about. Or acknowledge their existence. At all. Like my brother's sex life. I remember that time I walked in on you in... was it Illinois?"

Dean smirked. "Are you telling me that you and Gabriel don't have se—"

"No!" Castiel decided it was time to save Sam Winchester. "Dean." Castiel got up. "Yes, I think we should go outside. You haven't seen the terrace, have you?"

"Not yet. There were people all over the place. I have people coming to visit now." Dean moved from one topic to the next, lightning-fast, in this case a good thing, in Castiel's opinion. "But I think that thirty guests might be a few too many. So no, I didn't manage to get through to it." Dean smiled and Castiel found himself caught up in the space that was only for the two of them. "You coming, baby?" Dean finally asked, making no attempt to move. Castiel didn't move either. He had important stuff to do. Like looking at Dean.

"Dean?" Castiel forced himself out of his Dean-induced trance.

"Oh. Sure. Terrace." Dean heaved a sigh and turned around, walking across the room, not waiting for Castiel.

"Those two," Gabriel told Castiel, much to Sam's badly hidden amusement, "are so sickeningly sweet it makes my teeth hurt." Gabriel stroked Sam's hand, looking up at him like a worshiper would look at his god. "Good thing that falling in love doesn't make me a soppy, doe-eyed idiot," he stated and nuzzled Sam's hand, entirely focused on his beloved.

It took Castiel only half a minute to get the coughing fit under control. He stole the rest of Gabriel's coke and went after Dean.

The afternoon sun was too hot, but the terrace was a beautiful place and the awning made it bearable to stay outside. The heavy scent of flowers was pleasant, and a few bees had already found the small oasis to be a decent place to gather pollen. 

"It's like a small paradise up here... Cas... that's..." Dean turned around. "I can't even begin to say how much it means to me. I have you, and that is all I need. But the apartment. This terrace... I can cook for you! And we can invite people over and make burgers and barbeque and.. are those spices?" Dean picked a leaf from one a small thyme. "Mmm." Dean straightened and looked across the street. "It's not much of a view. But... in the evening. Cold beer. A steak or two on the grill... I can't wait!" Dean raised the hinged lid on the Grill Dome. "Charcoal. Good choice. You think we can have Gabriel and Sam over with Bobby and Ellen?" 

Dean was so cheerful about the prospect that Castiel didn't want to point out that six people around the small table would be tight. They'd manage. Hell, they could invite Jo and Alfie and Benny and Elizabeth, too; it didn't matter that there wasn't that much space. 

"As soon as I'm back from our last case. I need to go back and find out what to do with my old place. Two weeks, Dean, and then I won't have to leave you before we start shooting next season."

Dean came up behind him, kissing his cheek. "I'm gonna miss you like crazy."

"You'll have fun with the toys that MacLeod gave you. You won't even notice that I'm gone." Castiel was going to miss Dean too, but he knew he'd be busy, they'd both be. Time would pass quickly.

"Oh, I'm gonna notice, baby. I'm going to notice the distinct lack of kisses. And of having you in my bed. Being with you, just having you here. At least we have a little time before you and Gabriel are off."

They stood like that, holding each other for some time, watching the shadows grow longer. Castiel was determined: he'd cherish every minute he had with Dean. He'd never taken love for granted and now he had every incentive to enjoy every second of it.

He could hear Sam and Gabriel talk in the living room, muted and soft, Gabriel's usual joking tone gone in favor of one that held nothing but admiration and love. Gabriel might be cocky and confident, but he was exactly as gone for Sam as Castiel was for Dean. 

Dean caught the gist of it too. "Sam's got everything he ever wanted," Dean said quietly. "And so do I. I'm so happy Bobby talked me into that making that video and sending it to you."

Castiel merely did as he'd done all week. He stared at Dean in adoration until Dean got it and kissed him. They engaged in that particular and very pleasant pastime until Gabriel interrupted them, coughing demonstratively.

Gabriel stepped outside. "Sam and me, we're going downstairs now. Ten minutes, kids. We still have a party to attend and it'll look bad if the guests of honor aren't there."

"We'll be down in ten. Just... give us a moment alone," Dean demanded. "We haven't had... I want..." He tightened his grip around Castiel's waist, pressing him close. Castiel couldn't help it; he sighed as he placed his hands on Dean's hard chest again, wanting more, at least more kisses.

"Ten minutes, Deano, or I'll get back up here and drag you out." 

"Get out of my apartment, asshole." Dean donned a shit eating grin, smirking at Gabriel. He looked at his watch. "Ten minutes from the moment you're out the front door. Scram!"

The front door had barely slammed shut behind Gabriel and Sam before Dean backed Castiel inside. Castiel's hands brushed over Dean's nipples, peaking under his thin t-shirt. "Is it enough? Time? Ten minutes?" Dean asked, making aroused little noises as Castiel decided to explore what was under his t-shirt. 

Castiel had no problem understanding what Dean wanted, because it was the exact same thing that he wanted. Every minute counted and Castiel had no patience left. He needed release, and he needed it now—before he made a fool of himself in public. "Yes." 

Without further ado, Castiel turned on his heel and almost ran downstairs to their bedroom. They still had nine minutes left.

Dean used less than ten seconds to catch up with him.

"Want to test the mattress?" Castiel asked, pulling one heavy safety boot off. It landed on the floor with a thud. He sat down on the bed, fighting the other boot.

"Hurry... God, hurry, Cas!" Dean urged, staring hungrily at him.

Dean fell on his knees in front of the bed, and Castiel shuffled backwards, supporting himself with one hand while attempting to open his jeans with the other. He had barely shoved them down before he had Dean's mouth on him. Dean moaned obscenely, sucking Castiel's cock in deep, a bit clumsy and rough, but it was okay. Castiel _needed_. "Yes! Oh, your mouth... damn!" Dean's spit-slick lips slid down again, the tip of Castiel's cock pushing against the roof of Dean's mouth. "Come _on_ ," Castiel urged, desperate for more. "No, no... Get... here," he croaked, pulling at Dean's hair, realizing he didn't make sense. "Bathroom. Lube," Castiel demanded. He remembered vaguely that he'd seen some when he put Dean's stuff into the cabinets. 

Dean obeyed, reluctantly letting go of Castiel's dick, too dazed to protest.

"Now, Dean!" Castiel shoved a hand in his own back pocket, grabbing his wallet. He flipped it open with sweaty hands. Condom. Good. "Lube."

Dean returned with a bottle. He only had to look at Castiel once before he was ripping open his own jeans, pushing them down only far enough to pull his cock free of his boxer briefs. He got on his knees on the bed, one leg on each side of Castiel's thighs. "Switch." He threw the bottle on the bed and took the condom before Castiel reacted. 

"Need you now. Before we go anywhere." The sight of Dean, stroking himself to full hardness was perfection. Castiel's dick throbbed. "Help." Turning over under Dean, Castiel flipped the bottle open, smearing lube over his fingers before he squirmed and got on his knees, reaching behind himself to prepare. 

"Fuck, that's hot, baby," Dean groaned, getting a hold of the bottle. Castiel put a finger in, moving it around slowly, not caring to give Dean a show. They had no time and all the need in the world, they needed release and fast.

"Put them in me. Fingers," Castiel ordered. He could feel Dean behind him, his oil-smooth cock slapping against his ass. Then Dean teased the rim with the tip of a finger, hesitating a moment before he slid it in next to Castiel's own, careful and slow.

"That is so..." Dean breathed. "You have no idea how hot you look like this, baby. Do you really want me to fuck you so bad?" Dean leaned forward, pushing the finger deeper inside. "You have barely taken your clothes off. You're all desperate now, aren't you?"

Yes, Castiel was desperate. All the hard work and the tension and the week that had passed since he met Dean for the first time needed outlet. They were done with the episode, and all Castiel could think of was to get more of the man he had fallen in love with. "Shut up, Dean, and do it!" Castiel had no patience left, no romantic notions, and absolutely no control over his desire for Dean. All he had was burning desire. All he needed was for Dean to take him so that they could share pleasure and relief before they had to go to that party. When it was over, they had a whole night ahead of them that would be dedicated to romance and love and gentle caresses. Not now. Now it was base and rough and raw.

Dean pushed another finger in. Castiel realized in his dazed, sex-hungry state that he had to allow Dean time. He shouldn't rush him. It was still new to Dean, being with another man. "It's fine," Castiel groaned, whimpering as Dean's finger teased his prostate. "Yeah, that... is .... fine!" Castiel tensed, then forced himself to breathe out slowly. "You can... If you... I'm ready." It wasn't entirely true; they could have used more time to prepare. "Please, Dean?"

"I'll go slow," Dean said, moving his fingers back at an excruciatingly slow pace, driving Castiel near despair. Dean was cruel, more cruel than Castiel had thought he could be. "I want to see my cock disappear into you," Dean whispered, placing little kisses on the back of Castiel's neck. They tingled hotly, and Castiel moved his hand from his ass to his cock. He stroked it. He wanted to come so badly and Dean's dark voice in his ear didn't make it easy to hold back. 

"I wanna see how it looks when I open you up," Dean told him, pressing the head of his cock into Castiel's slightly loose opening. "I wanna watch when I come in you and see how it looks when you squeeze your hole tight around my cock." 

"God, Dean, you can't... Be quiet or I can't..." Castiel was on the verge of coming, Dean sliding in and out of him, slow and dirty like the words that were poured into his ear, sparking a burning lust in him that he didn't knew he'd been able to feel. 

"You like that, baby? It turns you on that I tell you how I wanna fill your ass with my cock? That I want to fuck you until you're sore and exhausted and can do nothing but to lie there when I fuck you again, and you'd still want it?"

Castiel's desire flared wildly, and he was hot all over, embarrassed and aroused at the same time. "Dean, please!"

"You like it?" Dean grabbed Castiel's hips and slid in to the hilt. "Tell me."

"You are... Oh! Such a... romantic," Castiel groaned, clutching at the covers. He couldn't think, not with Dean's cock deep in him, urgency and arousal killing his ability to think or form words. "Fuck," he managed. "Just fuck me. Come _on_!"

" _Tell_ me!" Dean stopped moving.

Castiel caved. "Yes! I like it! Satisfied?"

"I'll be in a... minute," Dean groaned, his breathing shortening. "Mmm, fuck, oh my fucking God, Cas!"

Outside the window a car horn bleated loudly, once, then again, longer. 

"No!" Dean's hand were like iron on Castiel's hips and he didn't protest. "Shit! Come on, Cas."

Castiel's arousal didn't waver. One arm against the headboard, a hand on his dick, jerking himself fast and rough, Castiel thrust back. He didn't need much stimulation, he more than ready, Dean's cock deep in him. He squirmed and squeezed around it, egging Dean on, no words necessary. 

"Yeah, like that!" Dean slowed down, then set a harder pace as soon as Castiel relaxed enough to let him move. "Insane... You drive me... In... sane." Dean moaned again and tensed, pulling at Castiel's hips to get in deeper. Dean's orgasm was rough and rushed. He let out a curse before he slumped forward, his chest heaving, sweaty and too hot as he, boneless, flopped down on top of Castiel. 

"Off. You're hot." Castiel turned around, mustering what little energy he had left and pushed Dean down on the bed. He laughed and gasped for air at the same time. Dean got up on his elbows, kissing Castiel breathless once more. "Stop. We need to go," Castiel attempted, making Dean kiss him again. 

Dean mussed Castiel's hair with a damp hand. "You think we're ever going to have sex that's not awkward?"

"Probably. It's okay. It's good." It was. They didn't have to prove anything to each other. Castiel would rather have Dean's laughter. He'd rather have Dean's attempts to find out what he liked, making them both risk a little. They weren't performing. They were in love, and love had room for errors.

"We messed up the covers." Dean might have placed his hand in Castiel's wet spot because he looked at it with something akin to curiosity and slight disgust. "Ew." He laughed again, carefree and happy. "We rock. I have a rug burn on my left knee. We're not going to wear jeans in bed again, I swear." Dean rubbed his leg. The new air con hummed into action with a soft moan and sent out a pleasant gust of cold air. Dean sighed a content, "mmm," before he shuffled closer. "We need to stay here and practice. We are going at it until we reach perfection," he murmured, his mouth warm and damp on Castiel's cooling skin. "I'm never going to leave his room, and you can't go anywhere either." 

A few more deep honks from the Dodge made Castiel laugh. "Unless you want your brother to come fetch you, I think you'll have to."

"Last man's riding shotgun," Dean said and showed remarkable recuperating ability as he threw himself into the bathroom. A few seconds later the shower was on. Castiel wriggled out of his sweat-drenched clothes and turned his jeans upside down to find his cell. He punched in a short message for Gabriel, telling them that they'd be down in five. Gabriel's reply was not something Castiel wanted to see again. He deleted the picture of Gabriel's reproductive organ with a sigh. Sometimes it baffled him that he was the youngest of them. Gabriel would probably never grow up. Sam was a brave man. 

Dean was out of the shower a minute later, so quick that Castiel hadn't made it to the shower in the tub. They exchanged a wet kiss as they passed each other, Dean sighing longingly before he let go. 

A little later, Castiel was clean, dry and dressed in one of Dean's old t-shirts that was too tight, and jeans that weren't. 

"I'm keeping you like that. You should always wear my clothes," Dean said and closed his arms around Castiel from behind. "T-shirt and boyfriend-jeans? I like it. It has 'belongs to me' written all over it!" Dean placed a row of little kisses down Castiel's neck. It made pleasant little jolts run up his spine. 

"I'm not your property." Castiel stared at Dean in the mirror. "Although you may borrow me for as long as you like." He leaned back, reaching behind him to caress Dean's cheek. A few cool drops ran down Castiel's arm. Dean's hair was still wet.

"You're like library books, then. I don't return those either." Dean tightened his grip. "So you won't tell me yes when I ask you to marry me at some point? I'm going to be disappointed!"

"You'll find out whe— what?" Castiel tensed and turned, staring at Dean. "You..." He blinked, trying to catch up with Dean.

"You heard me. I'm going to make an honest man out of you if you decide to keep me. I told you. I'm not hiding, and I'm not going to pretend to be all casual when I'm not. Twenty years of mistakes, beautiful, wonderful, mind-blowing-orgasm-sexy one-night mistakes, Cas. One girl meant more and I didn't love her the way she deserved it. I'm not making any mistakes this time. We... okay, we suck in bed and I love it. We met a week ago, and we didn't cheat like Gabriel did and got to know each other beforehand and I love that too, that we fell in love, just like that. On the bottom line: I don't care. Because I've never had better. Because it's _you_. I am going to ask you to marry me at some point. Clear?"

It was very clear. Marriage? That wasn't exactly what Castiel had expected. All right, Dean had told him he'd elope to Vegas with him if he wanted it. At least Dean wasn't beating around the bush with what he needed, not that he'd put a lid on his desire and infatuation. When he'd first mentioned Vegas, Castiel hadn't been entirely sure that Dean meant it, not just because it was impossible for two men to actually marry there. Castiel wasn't in doubt now. He wasn't in doubt, either, that he'd say yes if they were still madly in love with each other when Dean decided to pop the question. The prospect of being married to Dean made Castiel smile. "And when are you... when are you going to ask? I mean, if I don't let you go?" 

"As soon as I'm sure you're not going to bitch over toilet paper turned the wrong way on the holder, or about me, keeping my beer experiments in the fridge." Dean's voice was low and there was a raw honesty to it. "As soon as we are both sure."

"Oh." Castiel had never found out why people used time on discussing the horizontal placement of toilet paper, nor did he care what was in his fridge as long as it wasn't able to leave it by its own volition. "I'm not, by the way. Going to complain. It's a very large fridge. Maybe you should wait with the question at least until we've been together officially for a full week? Just to be sure we're right for each other."

"I know." Dean sighed deeply, happily. "I am trying to be sensible here, don't ruin it, baby! So if I ask you, let's say, around December? Before Christmas, I think. Doesn't The House Angel finale air at Christmas? Can't have other men chasing after you when everybody finds out that you like dick. I should make it abundantly clear that you're taken and that the only dick you're getting is mine." 

"Then I'm probably going to say yes. If you promise to work on your courting skills. You probably shouldn't mention your penis in connection with a proposal. I believe that is highly unusual." Castiel knew he was going to accept. Unless everything went wrong and he discovered that Dean was a wanted mass murderer who liked to torture puppies. Castiel wasn't that fond of people who found it a suitable pastime to torture puppies. "I'm going to say yes. Definitely."

"Great." Dean placed a wet, open-mouthed kiss on Castiel's lips. "Then I'm probably going to be very pleased. My is dick too. Good that we got that settled." He made a content sigh and kissed Castiel again.

\- 0 -

When Dean and Castiel got their asses downstairs and outside, Gabriel was a man who was running out of patience. To make up for it, he had stocked up on teasing.

"Didn't know it was going to rain," Gabriel said when he saw them. "Funny that, the sun has been shining all the time on this side of the house. Local shower? You're both all wet."

Sam didn't say anything, the prissy expression spoke for itself. Gabriel found it adorable. Sam was hot and adventurous in bed, and yet he was getting all grumpy because Cas and Dean had an itch that had needed urgent relief? Sam would get over it. He needed to get rid of his habit of feeling embarrassed on behalf of Dean. Gabriel would teach him. 

Dean looked far too smug for his own good, and Gabriel decided to hit the weakest link. He chuckled. The embarrassment factor was high and he enjoyed it. "You're all red, Cassie. Too much sun? No? How was it? It was raining where you were? Or was it more like splashes?"

"Gabriel, don't tease them." Sam got up from the hood of the Dodge. "Can't you see they're exhausted." Sam sent him a small smile. Oh, yes. Sam would learn. "I'd be tired too," Sam said, "if I had been away in another time zone."

"Time zone?" Dean put his hand on the roof of the car, leaning against it a bit too casually. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Yeah, you're half an hour late. I suppose that you and Cas have been away to another time zone because Cas is a professional designer, and there is no way the two of you have used half an hour in bed while we were waiting for you. Being transmogrified into another time zone would explain it. Otherwise you'd have been here in time, like... twenty minutes ago."

"Don't mock my love, Sammy." Dean swatted Sam over the head. He pointed at Gabriel. "And you? Shut up."

"I'm not saying anything," Gabriel said. "I wouldn't dare suggest that you're late because you needed a good hard bang up against the wall. I'd never do that. Was it good, by the way? It sounded like it. And boy, do you need to refine the dirty talk? You can always come to me for suggestions." Gabriel rubbed his hands in glee when Dean and Cassie were both blushing. "Or you could try to remember to close the window."

Gabriel patted Castiel on the shoulder, deliberately patronizing him. "I'm so glad that we have decided to move to the same town. I can't wait to meet all Dean's friends."

"As of today I won't have any friends, thanks to you. Unless you decide to stay away from the party." Dean rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache coming.

"In your dreams, big boy. I couldn't possibly stay away when you're the guest of honor."

"Gabriel?" Sam smiled, not wide or brightly, but a small, soft smile that hinted at how handsome he was when he was smiling widely and happily.

Gabriel had learned to fear that smile. It stabbed his heart every time he saw it. It was the way Sam had smiled the first time Gabriel had seen him, tied down by sadness and loss, a three minute video that had changed his life, both their lives. "Yes?" 

Sam's smile spread to his eyes before it broke out, white and beautiful and happy. "Be nice."

"God, the dimples," Gabriel croaked. "I'm fucked. Don't. You know I can't... Fuck." Gabriel rubbed the bridge of his nose. Sam's smile was a lethal weapon, and he didn't even know. From the moment Gabriel had seen Sam for the first time all he wanted was to see him smile. Now he smiled most of the time, the smile coming and going like the sun on a slightly cloudy day, bright and shiny and warm. "It's not fair."

"In love and war..." Sam got closer He licked his lips teasingly. "Don't tease your brother.There might be repercussions."

Sam was a fast learner. "But—" Gabriel got up on tip-toe, wrapping a lock of Sam's hair around his index finger, pulling it gently to get Sam's mouth into kissing distance. "Okay." Gabriel knew he looked like a besotted teen, but it didn't matter. Dean whispered something to Castiel that sounded like "whipped". Gabriel still didn't care. He was put into this world to help and protect, and if that made him look like a fool he didn't care. Okay, so he was born to tease people too. But for Sam he could make an exception. At least for tonight. Or until they were home. And Sam hadn't told him he couldn't tease Dean. Besides, he could tease who the hell he liked in his own home. "We should go. Party."

"Don't think what I think you're thinking," Sam said and gave Gabriel the kiss he'd wanted. "And y'all heard the man, we're off." 

"You want me to..." Dean wasn't entirely happy with the Dodge and it showed. He hesitated. "I should go get Baby."

"She's all wrapped up," Castiel informed them. "We took very good care of her, Dean. We didn't want her to come to any harm."

"All right. Gabriel's car, then."

Nobody contradicted him. Gabriel winked at Sam. His car. His boyfriend. His family. He was happy. Gabriel turned the ignition and cranked up the stereo; someone had left a tape in the cassette. Led Zeppelin's _Whole Lotta Love_ blasted loudly from the speakers, and Gabriel immediately sang along, catching the last line; _I wanna be your backdoor man. Keep it coolin', baby,_ which made Dean crack up entirely in the back seat.

Gabriel pressed the gas and _his_ baby came to life with a growl. Sam was watching him. Maybe he wondered why he was settled with a brother and a lover who were both in love with their cars. But Sam's eyes made the most perfect little wrinkles when he smiled, and left Gabriel with the feeling that Sam was pleased. Gabriel fell a little more into the bottomless abyss that was his love for Sam.

Gabriel sped up and the Charger roared loudly at the insignificant little cars that dared come near her. He drove her down the street, turning her ugly mug in the direction of Sam's house. Their house. He sort of missed the hellhound too. Gabriel couldn't wait to get home with his man. 

There was a party going on, and Gabriel never missed a party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this far. This is the end, although there is a chance that I pick the verse up again around Christmas. We'll see.
> 
> This story happened because I happened to come across an article linked in our national beer enthusiasts' magazine (yes, I do read about beer). The article was about Guinness' brew master, Fergal Murray, and for some reason I made the connection in my head to Crowley and his human name Fergus MacLeod, and I went on to wonder if Dean would be good at brewing beer rather than drinking it. It went downwards from there. Not sure at which point I decided that throwing the entire plot into a house-make-over show was a grand idea. Also, it might or might not have been under the influence of good beer. Several.
> 
> The article on Murray is here if anyone is interested in reading about the real man: http://www.goworldtravel.com/travel-ireland-fergal-murray-guinness-brew-master/
> 
> And to those of you who drink only tap water with a beer label on, or don't like beer because you think it's all piss here are a few suggestions: 
> 
> 1\. Hobgoblin (classic English ale) - really great and not too heavy or spicy (- or a Newcastle Pale Ale. Too light for my taste, but great for people who aren't used to ales or heavier beer.)  
> 2\. Black Wytch (black stout) - might be too much, might be an acquired taste, but damn, it's good. Beats Guinness so hard I can't even...  
> 3\. Anything that says 'chocolate stout' on the bottle. It's dark and dirty and tastes like it. Great with any dessert.  
> 4\. Well's Banana Bread Beer. Yep - what it says on the label. Nom. It's brewed on bananas (and malt and hops).


End file.
